My Heart Was Home Again--(Sequel to Selected Twins)
by shades111
Summary: (Sequel to Selected Twins) Prince Wesley has seen his two older brothers find success in their Selections, but that is definitely not something he wants to do, because he knows there's no point. After five years in the army and with the country coming out of a civil war, a Selection is an attempt to unify and restore the country, but it probably won't go as planned.
1. So It Goes

Prince Wesley Shreave slid out of the back of the SUV, and whipped of his sunglasses to take in the familiar sight before him. It had been awhile since he had been here, he realized, as the sun beat down on him and the smell of the ocean filled his senses.

He took in the grandeur of the seaside vacation home of the royal family, Trentworth. It was huge, designed of course, to accommodate a Selection. The rich gold stucco and cobbled driveway matched the beach he knew was behind the estate, the large windows and massive wrap-around terrace balcony accommodating the beautiful views.

The salty breeze messed up his already messy hair, and Wesley doffed his suit jacket as the heat got to him. He ignored his guards as they checked in with security and went in the front doors, while he stepped onto the terrace and walked around to the back.

Trentworth has always been full of memories for him, some much better than others. It had always been his favorite place to visit, even though they didn't go there too much when he was a kid. His mom didn't really do sun. Or sand, or much of anything come to mention it.

His favorite memories there were of the time they had gone there during his older brother Ethan's Selection for safety, after the rebels had stormed the palace during the masquerade ball held in the honor of Wesley's sixteenth birthday. Well, they were at least his favorite until the rebels found out they were there and attacked them during a game of sardines, that wasn't so fun, even though none of them had been killed. When Mitch Levi, the son of the rebel leader, had captured the royal family and the few remaining Selected and held them hostage up in Yukon during the beginning of the civil war in Illea, after they had been rescued by the remnants of the Illean army and a band of counter-revolutionaries, they had come here to rebuild the government.

In the back of the estate, he leaned against the terrace railing opposite the glass paneled doors that led out from inside, above the short stairs that went down to the garden path leading to the beach, taking in the stretch of ocean just beyond the fountains and grass. There were so many good memories here, so much better than the recent ones that filled his head.

The last six years of his life hadn't been very pleasant, beginning with the attempted revolution planned during Ethan's Selection, the one that had resulted in the death of four of the girls and his father, the former King Jackson. Of course, being taken and held hostage in Yukon had been pretty bad, but he had thought everything would be okay after they were rescued and Mitch and his leaders had been killed.

It hadn't, of course. Some wounds were just too big to heal overnight, and Mitch's attempted take-over wasn't going to die out either.

Wesley's oldest brother, Andrew, and his wife Christine had been crowned the new king and queen, and Ethan had finished his Selection, but the rebels weren't finished yet. Whites and Yukon had been the first to secede, followed by Atlin, St. George, and Bankston, demanding to create a new country, independent from Illea. Thus, another civil war had begun in the wake of Mitch Levi's. Perhaps it had never ended at all, until two months ago, when the north had formally surrendered.

This was the closest he had been to home since then-

"Uncle Wesley!" The shout jerked him from his thoughts as his leg was suddenly attacked. "Mom, Uncle Wesley's here! He's here!" The little voice shouted—probably a little louder than necessary.

"Hey, Aidan, long time, no see, huh little man?" Wesley said, gently trying to peel his nephew off him.

The four-year-old first male in line for the throne, the son of his oldest brother Andrew and his wife Christine, protested.

"I'm not little!" He proclaimed. "And I saw you at Christmas!"

"That's right, I guess you're all grown up now. Ready to be king?"

Aidan finally released his grip on Wesley's leg, allowing the blood to flow again. "Will you take me down to the beach, Uncle Wesley, please?" he begged, not answering the question.

"I don't know, where's your mom? What did she say?"

"She said not until later, when everyone else got here. But you don't have to tell her that, do you?"

Before having to decide the moral dilemma of having to obey the queen of Illea who was also his sister-in-law, and be boring or to indulge what four-year-old him would have done, he was saved.

"I'm pretty sure your uncle had a long trip, Aidan, why don't you go find your dad?"

Nicole, his other sister-in-law, Ethan's wife, always knew exactly what to say, Wesley marveled, as Aidan ran off, no doubt to bother Andrew in the same manner.

"Hey, thanks. That was a tough one," Wesley said, stepping over to give her a hug, "It's good to see you, Nic."

"Well, I'm pretty sure Ethan's told me the story where you pulled the same thing with him when you were a kid," Nicole grinned, and shifted her son to the other hip to hug Wesley. She looked great, as usual, the same thin dancer's body that she had always had, though she was sporting some new blonde highlights in her hair.

"Oh, crap I was hoping you hadn't heard that one," he said, before shifting his attention to the kid. "Hey, Jamie, how's it going, buddy?"

The little boy giggled, and then hid his face in his mother's neck.

"He's two now, isn't he?"

"Yep, last month," Nicole said, pulled a strand of her dark hair out of Jamie's grasp.

"I'm sorry I missed the party," Wesley said lamely, reminded of yet another thing he had missed.

"It's okay, we knew you were busy," Nicole reassured him, "But it is good to have you here. Come on inside, we're all waiting for you."

Wesley followed her off the terrace and inside, the cold from the air conditioning fogging up the lens of the sunglasses in his hand. "Is everyone already here but me?"

"Yep, you're the last one. I can't remember the last time the whole family was together like this, except for maybe Michelle's wedding after Ethan's and mine."

Wesley closed the doors behind him, and then suddenly became aware of an onslaught of noise. He walked after Nicole and Jamie across the marble floor, into the large living room, resisting the urge to cover his ears. Usually he liked Trentworth more than the palace—it felt more like a home than a museum with its smaller size, smaller staff, and more proximity to the family. Now, suddenly he wasn't so sure.

His family was gathered in the living space open off the main entryway that dominated the downstairs. The high, two-story ceiling allowed a glimpse of the staircase that led into the second floor full of bedrooms, and overhanging the railing he could see two little girls, his nieces, no doubt. That would Sophie and Evangeline, the six-year-old princesses, the firstborn kids of Andrew and Christine.

The noise came from the screaming baby in the arms of his older sister Michelle, the new niece he had yet to meet. It upset Jamie as he entered in Nicole's arms, and he started to cry too.

Aidan ran back up to him, this time with his cousin, Michelle's older son, five-year-old Danny, in tow.

"Hi, Uncle Wesley! Did you bring us any presents?" Danny crowed, always expectant since he always saw Wesley at Christmas.

Never heeding his older cousin, Aidan all but leaped into his personal space, and proceeded to tug on Wesley's arm. "Mom says you can take us to the beach now, Uncle Wesley!"

"No, she didn't Aidan!" This came from Sophie, one of the twins. At least he thought it was Sophie, he still mixed them up, even though one of them had dark reddish-brown hair like Andrew and the other, presumably Evangeline, was blonde like Christine.

"Yeah, she said that you must wait until tomorrow," chorused the other twin.

All four of the kids turned to him, eyes wide and looking for the parental guidance that Wesley, the youngest and only still single member of his family, most certainly lacked.

He panicked. He loved the kids, he really did. But sometimes they made him want to run out the door as fast as possible and never, ever settle down.

Once again, he was saved, and this time it was from his oldest brother, Andrew, who also happened to be the king, so the kids couldn't dispute it.

"I know you guys haven't seen your uncle since Christmas, but he's probably exhausted. So, if you're good, we can go down to the beach later, but in the meantime, there are really really important king things to discuss with him first, so you guys all go play together, okay?"

"We should play sardines!" Aidan yelled—once again much more loudly that necessary, and the rest of the royal children agreed and ran out, minus Jamie and the new baby, Charlotte, now calmed down.

Wesley turned to Andrew, noting with admiration his brother's new beard. "Why is your son exactly like me?" he asked, trying not to act pleased.

Andrew punched him lightly on the arm, "I don't know, seeing as you haven't been around much in the last four years. It's good to see you, little bro," he turned the punch into the manliest hug possible.

"I like the beard. Wish I could grow one like that," Wesley said.

"Well I don't," this came from Andrew's wife, Christine. "It's pretty scratchy."

"WOAH PDA!" Wesley feigned mock horror, before giving her a hug.

The petite blonde queen smiled warmly, lighting up her delicate features. Like Nicole, ironically, she was a ballerina too, and even after three kids, albeit a set of twins, she still looked as elegant and graceful as when they had first married.

"Sorry about the kids. They slept the whole way here on the plane, and then Ethan let them have cookies."

"That's because I'm their favorite uncle," chimed in Ethan, Wesley's slightly older brother, Nicole's husband. He got up from where he was sitting by her, careful not to disturb the now-sleeping Jamie.

"Yo, I'm pretty sure I'm their favorite uncle. I'm much more interesting," Wesley proclaimed. "Off flying planes instead of being on the Council being a boring grown-up."

Ethan grinned, and then hugged him. "Good to have you back, Wes. I missed that sarcasm."

It was easy to fall back into his old ways, he realized as Ethan started talking about official things with Andrew in rather hushed tones. He hadn't even had to try. It was good to finally be home.

He bounced over to the three remaining adult relatives he hadn't greeted, plus the baby. His mom, the queen mother Francesca Shreave was sitting with his sister Michelle and her husband, David in a corner of the room. Even though she was holding baby Charlotte, and maybe because of that, he could that his mother wasn't quite so young anymore. The last four years must have been tough on her too. Her auburn hair wasn't the same shade he remembered as a kid, it was lighter, and even though she covered up the gray well, he could tell she dyed it. Same as always, she wore lots of makeup and even in the casualness of Trentworth, she was wearing an evening gown and heels.

"Hey, Mom," he said, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek so as not to disturb the baby. "You look great."

"So, do you. You look like your father with your hair that short," she said, squeezing his hand.

"I can't believe you're at the legal drinking age," Michelle said as a hello, hugging him tightly. He always blamed his sense of humor on his only blood related sister, but most people disagreed. "That's a little scary."

"And good to see you too, Michelle," Wesley teased back. Michelle had put on some weight, as was expected after having another baby, but it looked good on her, he always remembered her as too skinny. At 26, she was about a year and a half older than Ethan, and two years younger than Andrew. Wesley, recently 21, was always the baby of the family, even at family reunions with newborns.

He shook hands with David, the sandy-haired former guard that Michelle had married just after Nicole and Ethan's wedding. The pair along with Danny and now Charlotte weren't regular fixtures at the palace, only on holidays. They spent the rest of their time at their home in Clermont.

Originally, she had been betrothed for life to a prince in Italy, but with after the attempted coup and ensuing civil war, they had broken negotiations, and Andrew had allowed her to marry her lifelong love, David.

At least something good had come from that.

"Beards must be in style," he said, greeting his only brother-in-law.

"He says he doesn't have time to shave with two kids now," Michelle explained. "Even though Colin has three and shaves religiously."

"That's because Adele would probably kill him if he even thought about a beard," David joked, casually mentioning the first prime minister of Illea and his wife, a former lady of Ethan's Selection, plus the leader of the counter-revolution that David and Michelle had fought on to rescue them during their captivity in Yukon.

"Did you meet Charlotte yet, Wesley?" his mom asked him, "she's sleeping, so you can hold her."

He didn't protest as his mother carefully shifted the pink-wrapped bundle into his arms. After six other nieces and nephews, he'd found he liked babies, as long as they weren't crying.

"Hey, Charlotte," he murmured, unable not to smile. Like her mother, she had dark hair, though hers was sprouting in tufts on her head. "I guess you're the first girl since the twins."

A wave of exhaustion spread over him, and he leaned back into the couch, and took a deep breath. For once, relaxation came over him easily. Maybe he should have come home more often to hold the babies more often.

After they had restated the monarchy and deposed Mitch's rebellion, he had spent about a year at the palace, in constant meetings with Andrew, Ethan and the others—the most senior member of the Illean Military, General Connelly, the newly elected to the newly made office of prime minister Colin Evans, along with the new senators from the provinces. They had tried to fix things, but after the secession and re-beginning of fighting in the north, he had become restless. The palace held too many memories, and he had had to get away.

With his title, he had initially only volunteered on Connelly's staff, staying in the relative safety of Columbia. That year, he had learned everything he could about military strategy, as well as completing his pilot's training, something he had always wanted to do.

Somehow, he had gotten promoted to first lieutenant, and had spent the next three, hellish years leading raids into enemy territory.

Two months ago, the provinces that had seceded had surrendered, and they were being incorporated back into the rest of Illea.

 _It's over now. It's okay. You're at home, you're on vacation with all the family, holding your niece. It's over. It's okay._

He sat in silence, listening half-heartedly to the conversation swirling around him

Maybe he should take a nap or something. He dosed off for a while, in good company with Charlotte.

When he woke up, someone had kindly put a pillow under his face, smashed against the arm of the couch, and removed the baby from his arms. Jamie was now curled up next to him, drooling all over the other end of the couch.

He sat up, blissfully ignored by everyone sitting around him, now consisting of his mom, Michelle, Christine, and Nicole—talking babies as usual.

"We've hired a governess for Evie and Sophie," Christine was saying. "She'll be tutoring them too, now that they're older and I have my hands full with Aidan."

Nicole smiled, "I can't believe they're already six. You were pregnant at my wedding still, weren't you?"

Yawning, Wesley got up, in pursuit of some snacks, wondering if the governess would be hot, or if she was going to be some mean old lady who would yell at him.

He found Andrew and Ethan out on the terrace, eating chips and watching the older kids run around the garden. Of course, this required lots of unnecessary running up onto the terrace and the connecting balcony, and plenty of screaming. Wesley almost turned back for a solo snack mission until he saw they had salsa too.

"Hey bros, what's crack-a-lacking?" He asked, joining them on the patio furniture and stealing the bowl of chips from Ethan.

Ethan made a move to retrieve them, then thought otherwise and gave him the salsa too. "We've been discussing Andrew's Council."

"I thought us and Colin as prime minister were enough," Wesley said around a mouth of chips, motioning to Ethan.

"Yeah, but no offense, neither of you know anything about military strategy," Andrew said. "Connelly's stepping down from active duty now that the north has surrendered, so I'm going to ask him to oversee national security."

"You should ask Ben too, Nat's husband. He's really turned things around in Kent," Ethan added, mentioning Nicole's twin sister Nat Harris and her new husband Ben Harris, the first senator of Kent and former rebel-turned-revolutionary.

"I was thinking about that, since he helped us out before he got elected, when this all started."

Wesley stuffed in another salsa laden chip, "You should ask Elvira, too. I like her."

"You think she'll leave the military? She's a captain now," Andrew said.

"Of course, she will, I think she secretly enjoyed her time in Ethan's Selection. And besides, she wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see me again." Wesley joked.

Ethan shoved him jokingly, "You're so weird, Wes."

Wesley grinned smugly, "I know, it's one of my talents."

They both simultaneously turned to Andrew, always looking for the older brother to take a side. They found him staring over the garden solemnly.

"What's wrong?" Wesley asked.

Andrew started and looked at him, and probably hadn't heard any of their conversation.

"Oh, sorry. I'll ask Captain Entrinken too, to oversee military."

"No, why are you frowning like we forgot your birthday?"

Andrew leaned back in the chair, and sighed. Wesley noticed his older brother was starting to look different, a few more wrinkles and hardness to his face. He decided not to bring up the time that did happen.

"I just keep thinking-I don't know if making a new Council will be enough. I mean, we just had a civil war. We kinda had two, I guess. And I don't think things are just going to go back to exactly the way before and everything is going to fix itself. But I'm not Dad, I don't know what to do."

Ethan leaned back too. "You mean bringing the country back together."

Andrew nodded, and the three brothers sat in silence.

Wesley snorted. "Wow guys, I just had a great idea," he dead-panned. "We should have another Selection. I should have a Selection." He chuckled at his joke, and reached for more chips, munching until he noticed both of his older brothers were staring at him.

"What?" he wiped his face, in case he got salsa on him or something. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"That's actually a great idea," Andrew said.

"Yeah, people will see that we're all the same again, especially with a girl from the secessionist provinces," Ethan pointed out.

Wesley jumped up, upsetting the chips onto the floor. "No no no no no I was kidding guys, I was kidding, now everyone is supposed to laugh, ha ha, what a stupid idea, Wes."

Neither of them did, and Wesley panicked. "I'm not joking now, I am not having a Selection."

"Oh, come on, Wesley," Andrew said, "What's the worst that could happen? I thought you loved the women."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe some crazy guy could start another revolution and one of the girls could turn out to be his spy and people will die and I'll die and that's serious, that's life-long commitment, I can't do that guys."

"Hey, it worked for us, didn't it?" Ethan reminded him. "It's not actually that bad."

"I don't want to get married!"

"Neither did we, but when we had ours, it was just for us. You'd be doing the whole a country an amazing thing," Andrew said. "Look, we're on vacation, you don't have to say yes now. Think about it, and when we go home, we'll talk again." "Yeah, but…" Wesley trailed off. He could see that his pitiful arguments weren't going to get him anywhere. He had never pictured himself having a Selection, especially because Andrew was the king, and his brother would never force him. Sure, he loved girls, but he didn't like it when relationships became serious.

That was…serious.

Besides, there was part of him that had always dreaded having a Selection because he already knew that he could never find a girl he could love.

…

 **HELLO EVERYONE! Either welcome, or welcome back, if you're here from Selected Twins! Prepare yourself for a nice long author's note!  
So, as promised, this is the sequel for Selected Twins, my first (really long) story, which I hope you have read, or at least will. I know most stories that have sequels do them as independently as possible, and I will try to do so as well, but I think it will definitely help. This story isn't going to be especially long, only somewhere between 20-30 chapters.**

 **So, Wesley's having a Selection (why else would we be here), and I decided to go ahead and make a small SYOC component because it's fun, and this is a sequel to another SYOC.**

 **So, here are some rules and the form, and there's more information on my profile if you need some references.**

 **So first off, in the chapter we found out that the attempted revolution back in ST spiraled into a civil war, and lead to some secession by some provinces. The war is over, and they're going to be working towards unity (think the American Civil War, basically), and Wesley's Selection will help that out. If you want to make a character from the north (which I would love) she'll definitely get more "screen time", but make sure you include how the war has affected her.**

 **These are the provinces that seceded (I'm going off the map):**

Whites

Yukon

Atlin

St. George

Bankston

 **In addition to this, much of the fighting also took place and affected these provinces, so make sure you indicate how it affected your character if they are from there.**

Columbia

Ottaro

the northern region of Husdon

 **Other than that, just don't copy any of the characters from the series, or any character from another thing or a celebrity (I'm fine with inspiration, I just don't want blatant copies), and PLEASE do not use the exact same character you have submitted elsewhere.**

 **Also, the Selected aren't going to have a massive role (like in ST) and I won't be writing in their POV, so you don't have to spend tons of time on them. The form is pretty short, but please still include detail in the sections I require. I'm doing this so you don't spend a ton of time on stuff I'll never use!**

 **Also, like ST, I go off the "dystopia" from the series, so there's no internet or social media etc., it's not a contemporary world, so please take that into account**

 **Make sure you at least get the basics in by the deadline by July 15** **th** **so I can get started on the story!**

 **If you have any questions, comments, concerns, want to bounce off character ideas with me, or whatever, don't be shy to send me a PM!**

 **Please include your characters first and last name somewhere in your PM title!**

 **Happy creating!**

 **-Form—**

 **Basics**

 **Name:**

 **Age: (18-22)**

 **Province: (Pick two-if you pick one of the above ((please do!)) make sure you take that into account)**

 **Caste:**

 **Occupation: (please include some detail, not just the title)**

 **Appearance: (Hair, eyes, skin, build—Face claims are not required)**

 **History/Backstory: (You only have to include what is important, unless you really want to write tons, go ahead! Basically, what has affected their personality and how they act, as well as a little background)**

 **How Has the civil war/attempted revolution affected them: (Very important if you pick one of the above provinces)**

 **Romantic History:**

 **Personality: (This is the most important part! Please write as much as you can, at least a paragraph!)**

 **How they act around people: (Including friends and family, royal family)**

 **(These don't have to be long, and really anything goes)**

 **Likes:**

 **Dislikes:**

 **Fears:**

 **Talents or Hobbies:**

 **Flaws:**

 **Why did they sign up/why did they participate after they were Selected:**

 **Thoughts on Prince Wesley:**

 **OPTIONAL—you don't have to do all of these or any, only if you want, but I will definitely take them into account**

 **Style:**

 **Scene or quote Ideas:**

 **Favorite Food:**

 **Favorite Book/movie/songs:**

 **Face Claim:**

 **That's about it! PM for any questions, and I'll be getting Pinterest up and running shortly! You can search for me under Shades or Shades111, or the title of the board as soon as I make it!**


	2. History Shows

**First review shout outs to** Cbear88, Miss Kaydence, Mystoggan, XOStarbrightXO, delovlies, suicideblonde99, fivesauce'n'YAbooks, Nameless, LadyAnj, **and** canifindtheone **!**

 **I meant to post this a lot earlier, but I had finals last week which took forever, but now I'm free for the remainder of the summer! For this reason, I extended (and am re-extending) the deadline after I planned out the next couple of chapters. I won't be needing the characters until chapter four, so the absolute deadline is this** **Wednesday, July 26** **th** **.** **I have lots of great characters, but if you haven't submitted, please please please check my profile for any updates, and a list of the characters I have, and try to be different from them. I am no longer accepting Twos or Threes (as that is mostly what I have).**

 **Pinterest board is up and rolling!**

 **-Shades**

…

The night sky was empty, except for the thousands of stars that were always just out of reach.

It was quiet and kinda peaceful here, now that he thought about it. If he just focused on the light shining from those stars, maybe he could pretend nothing had happened.

Down below, everything was dark, only little pinpricks of light from houses. If he thought hard enough, it was almost like everything was going to be okay, and that there was nothing going on.

He exhaled slowly, and leaned against the seat, feeling his body uncoil just the slightest.

It was a mistake, of course. That could have lost him his life.

It took him a second to recognize the beeping to his left, combined with the blinking yellow light.

He swore, letting the expletive continue into a long string, each word becoming more and more ridiculous. There was someone on his tail.

For once, he wished Captain Entrinken hadn't sent him out alone, even though it would have been stealthier, he suddenly wished he could at least see the landing lights of a plane in front of him. Maybe then the sickening taste of impending death and pain and everything else wouldn't be in his mouth.

"Ferguson!" he barked, alerting his copilot, asleep and blissfully unaware of the impending danger. Drake Ferguson jerked up, mumbling. He didn't say anything, as he usually didn't, only addressed the situation.

He wasn't aware of what the copilot was doing, only struggled to maintain his composure and fly the damn plane.

"What is it?"

"There's one of them behind us, they're just flying-"

Drake was cut off by another light and siren, this one practically screaming and bathing them in red light as it flashed.

"Never mind, they just launched a rocket at us!"

Instinct and his flight training took over and he barely even registered the evasive maneuvers he performed.

It wasn't enough, he realized, when the plane jerked, and he lost his grip on the steering and the side of his head slammed into the window. They'd been hit, not directly, but hit all the same.

"We have to jump!" Drake was yelling.

"What about the cargo? We have to deliver it!"

The plane bucked wildly again, and more sirens were off inside the cockpit.

"We can't even fly it now!" Drake cried, hauling him out of his seat.

"Are we going to die?" he asked, his voice small, barely audible above all the noise. Drake didn't answer, only stuffed him into a parachute, and yanked open the hatch.

The wind was freezing cold—it was always cold up north—and he wondered why he had decided to come back. It nearly blew him off his feet, but now the view of the serenity below was clear.

And then Drake shoved him out, and it was all rising to meet him. He heard a loud blast, and the scream of metal, and felt the heat, but he couldn't twist around to see, only scream for Drake, to see if one of his few friends had had time to jump.

The ground was coming up so fast, it was so cold and heard to breathe—he felt his body jolt up several feet as the parachute deployed, and then things kind of got hazy.

" _You're really the best, you know that?" she whispered as he grabbed her hand and tiptoed up to the third floor, creeping up the stairs like a ninja even though it was just a game of sardines._

" _Yeah, I know," he said as they came to the landing. Empty._

" _Shoot, they're not hiding up here." Panicking, he turned and ran down the stairs._

" _It's not a matter of life or death!" she called after him._

He opened eyes, but it wasn't Trentworth in the summer.

It was somewhere in Bankston or Hudson, maybe even Yukon, he didn't know. It was cold and snowing, dark still. There was the smell of burning, and above him the stars were winking out without any fuss as the clouds advanced.

The world around him exploded, and everything was on fire in an instant. Tangled in his parachute strings—now burning, he panicked again, swearing another string of colorful language.

It was his plane, at least whatever remained of it. He wriggled out of the parachute, and ran in the other direction—but he tripped over something.

Face down in the snow, he didn't move. He could hear the forest around him burning, smell the smoke and feel it burning down his throat. There was a new sound—another aircraft, yelling from closer, gunshots.

" _I love you too. Now go."_

He twisted over, looking behind him but he wished he hadn't.

He had tripped over Drake. His friend lay still on the snow, blood soaking into the snow and onto the stupid flop of chestnut hair that he had teased him about just before they had gotten on the plane. His clothes were singed and burned, along with the parachute bag laying neatly packed next to him, undeployed. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the stars, half his left leg gone, blood everywhere, on his face, on his clothes, OhGodhewasmissingaquarterofhisface-

"Wesley! Hey, are you okay?"

Startled, Wesley yelped, unable to fill his lungs with air because he couldn't get any out. Sweat made his button-down and jacket stick to his skin, replacing the flight gear that had felt so, so real. The frosty air conditioning was the only cold he could feel.

He took a shuddering breath, gripping the stair railing.

It was okay, it was okay, he was home, back at the palace, everything was fine, it was okay.

Nicole was standing in front of him, headed down, Jamie as his usual fixture on her hip.

"You were just standing there, looking like you were about to pass out."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm okay," he breathed, cringing at the higher pitch his voice had taken on. He cleared his throat. "Sorry, I'm in the way."

Nicole eyed him, frowning. "Are you sure? You're all sweaty and shivering and you sound like you ran a marathon."

Wesley nodded, trying to breathe deeply and get the air back.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ride back in a plane."

The words left him before he could think to not say them. He looked at Nicole to see if she had noticed his slip up.

Of course, she had. Her brow crinkled in sympathy and she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, Wes."

She smiled and squeezed his shoulder, and then continued her way down.

Wesley took a deep breath, and started back up the stairs.

He didn't know how to be okay anymore.

The plane had left Trentworth this morning, and it hadn't been until late afternoon when they had touched down outside the palace after a week of vacation. Michelle and David had taken another plane back to their home in Clermont, so things would be quieter without Danny and Charlotte, though he would miss them.

It was odd to be home, everything was slightly different yet strangely the same. His mother had told him his rooms had been remodeled, but since he had arrived, he had only loafed around the first floor, taking in all the newness.

When his father was king, the West Wing of the palace had been home to offices for the advisors and legislatures, but had since been devoted to Prime Minister Colin Evans and his staff. Colin and Adele usually lived outside of Angeles, not far away from the palace, but they had rooms here, of course, up on the third floor.

The Great Room was a lot fancier than it had been before, and the Main Hall had been completely redecorated. Many of the rooms off the Main Hall had been changed, even though no one really used them.

Wesley stopped outside the second floor, dominated by the guest rooms. Soon, he mused, thirty-five more of them would be filled with the Selected.

Of course, he had agreed, albeit reluctantly. He hadn't been able to turn his back on restoring the unity of the country they had fought so hard to fix-that still didn't mean that he was excited about it.

If he was totally honest, he was rather terrified of finding himself tied down in a serious relationship that would probably lead to marriage. He didn't want to open himself up like that, and falling in love sounded rather painful. It was easy to say nice things and be charming and he had lots of practice because he was, after all, a prince, but that didn't mean anything.

He had tried everything to get his brothers to change their mind—and had made a list of demands so impossibly irritating that no sane person would ever agree to it, but nothing had worked. Still, at least now all the Selected would have deep vetting and background checks, and they wouldn't have to stay in their rooms or the Woman's Room all day like they had in Andrew's and Ethan's Selections. He also had gotten things to be less formal clothing wise, as it already had been without King Jackson's presence. There was no timeline, and no one could force him to eliminate any of them. He would oversee all Report and Selection issues, and most importantly, the press would only be there if he allowed it, and would be kept to a minimum.

That had nearly been a deal-breaker, at least he had thought because the whole point was restore unity, but Andrew had agreed none the less.

He should have asked to get rid of the press entirely.

Wesley tore himself away, and continued up to the third floor, where the royal family lived. It was a lot less empty than it had been when his dad was king, when it had been inhabited by only his parents and siblings. Now, of course there were the kids, and lots of the less-than immediate family. Colin and Adele had their room up here for when they stayed over, plus Lady Gracie, Nicole's best friend and lady-in-waiting. She had almost been the winner of Ethan's Selection, until she rejected him, though there were no hard feelings. The cheerful blonde had a penthouse suite downtown in Angeles with her longtime boyfriend, Damian Chapman, the head of security for the Prime Minister, but she was over at the palace just as often.

Speaking of new additions to the third floor, as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard a shout and then someone nearly picked him up off the floor.

"WESLEY, OH MY GOODNESS WHEN DID YOU GET SO OLD?" A female voice shrieked in his ear. It could only be Nat, who knew how to greet a body in good fashion. He hadn't seen Nicole's twin in a couple years, with him up north and her in Kent. She still wore her hair shorter than Nicole's, but she had the same high cheekbones and heart shaped face.

"Hey, Nat!" he said, muffled into her hair. She always smelled vaguely of horses, he decided.

Nat held him at arm's length, and ruffled up his hair as she always did because she knew it annoyed him. "Nicky tells me you're having a Selection, and I honestly can't believe it."

Wesley laughed, and brushed his hair back into place as best possible-Nat was one of his favorite people to be around, and since Nicole was his sister-in-law, he sort of considered Nat too.

"Yeah, me neither to be honest."

"I'm sure it won't be that bad."

"I hope you're right."

Ben, Nat's husband, joined them on the foyer, and Wesley gave him their customary fist-bump-to-hug greeting. "Mate, you finally managed to shackle this one down,"

Ben jokingly rolled his eyes. "After only eight years of dating."

"Well, there was the matter of her being in Ethan's Selection and then some jerks decided to stage a revolution, but yeah, you should have done it way earlier. I can't believe you guys didn't invite me to your wedding,"

"You normally don't invite guests to an elopement, Wes," Nat teased him.

"Yeah, well you still should have invited me. I could have been your bridesmaid or something," Wesley said, this time ruffling Nat's hair. "Please tell me you're planning another one with guests and cake and me."

"Oh, believe me, there was definitely cake involved. We would have invited you, but we didn't want hordes of cameras descending on the event," Ben said.

"I feel you there, buddy. We were at Trentworth last week, and somehow, they still managed to find us and take pictures and criticize my choice of clothing. Also, apparently, I'm having an affair with like three various girls, oh, and I'm gay, according to one of my best friends who I've never even met. Didn't they accuse Nicole of cheating on Ethan with Ben a while ago, too?"

"Yeah, except all the pictures of her were me. I swear they somehow missed we're twins," Nat said.

"So, I take it you guys are here for a while? Did Ethan talk to you yet?"

"He said Andrew wanted me to serve on his Council, but we're going to discuss it more later tonight. Connelly, Elvira, Adele and Colin are here too."

"Shoot, speaking of which, I _am_ on the Council, and the Council is having a pre-dinner meeting, so I have to run," Wesley said, remembering. Andrew was very fond of scheduling things right away, even though they had just gotten back this morning.

He said his goodbyes to Nat and Ben and headed to his rooms. The last time he had been here, it was Christmas, several months ago. The time before that had been the Christmas before, a year and several months ago. Perks of being a prince in the military, he supposed. Still, he had never liked coming home—there were always too many memories of how it had been before everything changed.

Now, he didn't have much of a choice.

Wesley took off his blazer and tossed it over the chair and kicked off his shoes haphazardly, before setting off to explore.

Aside from his newly redecorated office, he had his bedroom, bathroom and a sitting area he never used that served as his foyer. It looked like how it had always looked, though the walls were a now a deep blue-gray instead of the former plain gray. There was still the large bay window that was behind the couch immediately across from the door from the hall, the little table in the middle, and the two chairs opposite. It was a small room, only for some privacy, and there was another door leading off into the short hallway passing the office and bathroom and ending at the bedroom. The bedroom was similar too, just different. His office was much cleaner than he had ever seen it, completely bare of papers or anything. The bathroom had had all the tile redone, and looked pretty snazzy.

Supposing he should change for dinner, Wesley headed back to the sitting room to grab his discarded jacket, only to find it gone, along with his shoes.

 _Well this is odd_ …

He went back down the hall, only to spy a stack of papers sitting on his desk that definitely had not been there five minutes ago. _Okay…_

Rubbing his eyes, he went back into the bedroom to find something nicer to wear, only to find a three-piece suit laid out on the bed in what could only be described as…burgundy.

"Good evening, Your Highness. I trust you had a pleasant journey back," came a voice behind him.

"What-" Wesley turned, only to find a man standing in front of his closet, hanging up the discarded jacket. He was maybe a few years older than Wesley himself, dressed in the black and whites of the servants, with dark hair and a face that could only be described as irritating.

"Um…who are you?" Wesley tried to be polite but this was getting strange.

"Joseph Sheppard, sir. Your valet. I'm also the first valet."

"But…I don't have a valet. I've never had a valet. And what is a first valet?"

"Well you do now," Joseph said, hanging up the jacket and smiling rather smugly…and irritatingly. "A first valet just means that all the other valets report to me. I'm in charge of them."

Oh great, he was power hungry too. Wesley ran a hand through his hair, he needed to find his mother and find out why she had hired a valet for him. Wesley wondered how many other valets were haunting the palace that he didn't know about.

"Um okay, well I'm good right now, so I'll let you know if I need anything?"

"Are you sure, sir? My duties require to assist you in dressing-"

"Yeah that's going to big ol' nope, Joe. I can dress myself," Wesley snapped. "And I'm sorry, but I really don't need a valet. So, I'm going to try to say get out in the nicest way possible except I don't know how."

Joseph looked, well, irritated, but since Wesley was a prince, he didn't protest. "Yes, Sir. I'll just come back lat…whenever you summon me."

After the door closed behind Joseph, Wesley sat down on the bed, fiddling with his tie. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, but the memories of the night up north when the plane had crashed, ending Drake's life came rushing back. He quickly opened his eyes, and headed for the bathroom to splash some water on his face.

Coming back into the bedroom, he eyed the suit with distaste, but there wasn't time to look for anything else, so he put it on anyway, as by this time he was already late to the Council meeting.

Halfway down the main hall of the third floor, Wesley was so busy trying to fix his hair that he was caught off guard when the door leading the Christine's rooms and the nurseries opened just as he was about to walk by.

Evidently, his presence had gone unnoticed by the door-opener, as they stepped out right in front of him, and of course, they collided.

"Oof!" the door opener nearly toppled off her tall heels and Wesley quickly grabbed her arm before she fell.

"Is running into someone the new way to introduce yourself?" He quipped, not recognizing the blondish brown shoulder-length bob that covered her face as she steadied herself. She wasn't wearing the black and whites of the maids, instead tall white pumps, a bright pink skirt, and a black and white polka-dot blouse.

"Are you o…" the words died on his lips as she brushed back the hair in her face and straightened so he could see her face.

The hair was dyed lighter than before, and she wore it much shorter than she used to, with a set of bangs that brushed the sides of her face. The same gray-green eyes were lined with a little more eyeliner, and seemed older, her face slightly slimmer. The same pale pink diamond hung on a simple chain nearly out of view under her blouse.

Her lips parted in surprise as her eyes met his, and she snatched the arm he was steadying her with away.

It all came flooding back—their shared birthday masquerade celebration that had turned into a rebel attempt to blow up the palace, running across the lawn with her and hiding in the woods, getting shot and her leaving their hiding place to go get help for him, their time together at Trentworth, pushing her into the fountain and kissing her, playing sardines so they would have an excuse to hide together, letting her go when Ethan sent her home…and seeing her again when he was stationed before he was evacuated when he served in Tammins.

The girl he hadn't heard from in years, despite their promises of love and devotion.

He stepped back, more from surprise than their close proximity, and breathed out her name.

"Lissa…"

…


	3. Deserts Must Expand

**Thank you for your wonderful reviews** Nameless, Miss Kaydence, suicideblonde99, Cbear88, Sora Kalopsia, XOStarbrightXO, canifindtheone, delovlies **, and new reviewer** alexiaroosenhaan **! They seriously were some of my favorites I've ever received :) :) :)**

 **Anyway, I think I got this done a week exactly from the last one, so I'll try to beat that next time, fingers crossed. Of course, Pinterest always distracts me so much, I made a bunch of new boards for inspiration, along with the original one, which will serve as a chapter-by-chapter guide. Feel free to make boards for your characters if you want and I'll follow them!**

 **Regarding characters, the deadline is tonight, but if you need more time, please let me know and just send me what you have (in any order at all) because I'll need them to start writing the next chapter, where they'll have an introduction of sorts!**

 **-Shades**

…

For a moment, neither of them said anything else, with only her name hanging in the tension-filled air between them.

Lissa couldn't even breathe properly, much less speak. The moment she'd heard his voice, everything felt like it shattered. It had all been going okay, despite a horrible first day as the governess for the little princesses, Evangeline and Sophie, and all she had wanted to do was go home and cry.

Now she really was really about to cry, she was so surprised.

So many unspoken words were between them, and literally bumping into each other after her disaster of a day was not the time to say them.

"Y-you're not supposed to be here," she stammered out, more her thoughts than her intent to speak. Her hand automatically went to the necklace—the one he had given her almost six years ago, before everything had happened, when they were young and stupid and in love. "You're supposed to be in the military, they said-"

"But the war's over…" Wesley said, offhandedly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new governess-for Evangeline and Sophie."

"You? You're the new governess?" His eyes widened as they roamed over her face.

It felt so odd, meeting this way again. Wesley looked older now, though the light brown hair was exactly the same, sticking up strangely just like it always did.

It was so awkward, and she hated it. Everything felt exactly the same, but there were new emotions there—jealousy, anger, distrust, pain…

"Uh, yeah. Actually, today was my first day," Lissa ran a self-conscious hand over her skirt. She was supposed to go to a dinner in like, thirty minutes, and she didn't even know where her room and her things were.

Meeting Wesley was the last thing that she had imagined would have happened, and she definitely didn't have a plan.

"Oh. Well, how did it go?" he asked, and then visibly swallowed.

 _Terrible, in fact I want to cry_. _Sophie doesn't like me, and they told me they don't need a governess and—_ "Great," she said, putting on a bright smile. "It went well."

They stood in silence, avoiding eye contact, and then both spoke at the same time.

"I should go-" she began,

"It was good to see-" Wesley started.

They stopped again, and then Lissa quickly curtsied. "If you'll excuse me," she murmured, and brushed past him, as fast as her heels would allow.

Queen Christine had told her this morning—was it really this morning?—that her room was on the fourth floor, and someone would take her there later. To be honest, Lissa hadn't even known there was a fourth floor, but then again, she had never even been to the third floor during her time in Ethan's Selection.

She was hoping there would be signs or name tags or someone to help her, but she could always go ask Nicole in a few minutes, she just wanted to get away from Wesley. At the end of the main hall that constituted the third floor, there was a small staircase leading up again. It was far less grand than the first two flights, from the first to second to third floors, and much smaller, but still furnished with impossibly beautiful dark iron scrollwork, gleaming pale marble floors, and of course, a chandelier.

Lissa hurried up the stairs, painfully aware of the time until she was supposed to be in the dining room, and of all the things preventing her from doing so. At the top of the stairs was another hallway, a bit narrower, and lacking the gilded crown molding of the lower floors, but still beautiful. Perhaps she was on the wrong floor.

She bit her lip nervously, noticing the group of people seated in the sitting area at the top of the stairs on the landing. They were dressed in the black and whites of the regular staff, but she noticed they were different.

One of the girls, a slim redhead dressed in a fitted black pencil dress and black heels with her hair in a perfect chignon, stood up as Lissa gave her friendliest wave.

"You must be Miss Dove?" the girl said with a cool smile. She extended a hand sporting shiny, immaculate red nails.

"Yes—I'm Lissa" she said, shaking her hand.

"I'm Joanna Kelly, Head Maid and Housekeeper. Queen Christine informed us you would be joining them for dinner, so I'll make introductions quick, and then show you to your room. Because you're a governess, you rank higher than all of us, so we'll be calling you Miss Dove."

"Oh, that's not necessary-" she began, but Joanna had already moved on.

"This is Caroline, she's Princess Nicole's ladies' maid, and Rose is Queen Christine's. Anna belongs to Queen Mother Francesca. And for the valets, we have Joseph, he's Prince Wesley's, Corey, Prince Ethan's, and Sam, King Andrew's valet. They all have rooms on this floor."

Their names went in one ear and out the other as she shook a flurry of hands and smiled until her cheeks hurt.

They all sat down again, but Joanna continued in her matter-of-fact way. "We all have our rooms on this floor instead of in the basement or in the servant's quarters because of our need to be close to the royals. You've already met the two nannies for the younger children, but they stay up here too, as do the personal guards for the royal family, and the Head Butler. We're all up here now because they've all finished preparations for dinner."

"That means I'm probably late!" Lissa squeaked out. Joanna wasn't mean, but she was obviously imperative to the running of the palace, and it was rather intimidating.

"Well, then let's go to your room, shall we?" Joanna smiled, and Lissa wondered if this girl ever even slept.

"I'll take her, Joanna. I know you're aching to make sure everything is under control downstairs," she heard a voice behind her. One of the valets was standing, and he shot a wink in her direction. "But it's just the Prime Minister and his wife and Princess Nicole's sister and her husband and few others. There's no need to panic."

Joanna rolled her eyes in the guy's direction and Lissa decided that maybe she wasn't a robot after all. "Just because Prince Wesley told you he didn't need a valet doesn't mean you should be rude, Joey," she smirked sweetly. "Nice to meet you, Miss Dove," she nodded in Lissa's direction, and then she was off down the stairs.

The rest of the upper-ranked servants went back to their chatter, but the valet approached her, grinning. Lissa tried to ignore his dark hair and eyes, and his muscular build underneath his black jacket. And his jawline. And his cheekbones. And his dimples, oh of course, he had to have dimples.

He nodded his head in the direction of the hall, "Your room's down here at the end."

"So, Lissa, right? Only Joanna will insist on calling you your formal title, but unless where in front of the royals, first-name basis is cool."

"Oh, good," she said, following. "Miss Dove makes me feel old. You're Joseph, right?"

"Yeah, I'm Prince Wesley's valet."

"What was that about, what Joanna was saying? Wesley refused to have you as a valet?" Lissa attempted to make conversation.

Joseph glanced sideways at her and cocked an eyebrow, before she realized she'd called him Wesley instead of Prince Wesley.

"You know, I know you were here before in the Selection, so you probably knew him, and I don't care that you don't call him prince, but Joanna will, and Queen Francesca and Queen Christine probably will too."

"Right, sorry." There were going to be a lot of things she'd have to get used to.

Joseph continued on. "No, he didn't refuse me as a valet…just a valet in general," he said before stopping at the last door in the hall. "This is you."

"Thanks," she said, suddenly feeling very much like she had been walked home after a date. "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm expected at dinner in like, fifteen minutes and I have to find my dress and change and-"

"I could help you out with that, if you want," Joseph did that thing with his eyebrows again, and smirked at her.

Lissa opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. She raised _her_ eyebrows.

"Sorry, inappropriate. Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around. Great to meet you, Lissa."

She gave him a smile as she opened her door. "See ya," she managed before beating a hasty retreat into her room and closing the door firmly behind her.

When she turned around, she had suspicion to believe that this was the wrong room.

Like Joseph said, things were different, and she wasn't a lady of the Selection—she was a governess.

But the room might have her believing otherwise.

It lacked the gold crown molding like the lower floors, matching the hall outside, and there wasn't a chandelier in the bathroom, but it was still gorgeous. Size-wise, it was a bit smaller, lacking a sitting area and a room-sized closet, but it was still pretty large. The walls were painted white, highlighting the red trimmed carpet and crepe curtains framing the massive windows overlooking the gardens and three floors of the palace below. The bed was made up in white, pink and green, with two white bedside tables with tiny pinkish lamps. The desk and seat for it were white as well, and several folders and stacks of paper were already neatly arrayed on it.

Lissa was startled out of her trance when she spied her two suitcases in the closet, as well as the garment bags already hung up. Time to get ready.

She dug through the suitcases until she found her makeup bag, curling iron, but the shoes were a lost cause, so the ones she had on would have to suffice. She fixed her makeup, but didn't bother with the curling iron, there wasn't time. She hadn't brought any of the dresses she had taken with her when Ethan had eliminated her, that might have been tacky, but she had bought a few new ones, per Gracie's advice. This one was a light peach nude color, made of simple crepe with an empire waist.

With two minutes until she was supposed to be in the dining room, she ran as fast as she could down the hall, knowing she would have to pass Joseph and the others to get to the stairs.

She heard a couple wolf-whistles, and Caroline and Rose were complementing her, so she threw a smile over her shoulder, and thanked them.

"Dang, you look good, Lissa," she heard Joseph say. There was no denying the blush that spread across her cheeks, but she ignored it. Lissa all but ran down the flights of stairs, and down the hall to the parlor adjacent to the dining room, remembering exactly where it was from her time in the Selection. She paused outside the doors, knowing her hair looked even worse than before.

"Your name, miss? So I can announce you?" One of the guards asked.

That was new, but she supposed she had always been inside during these sorts of thigs. "Miss Lissa Dove, Royal Governess."

The guard nodded, and then disappeared behind the doors for a moment, and then reappeared, opening the door for her.

Lissa took a deep breath, and then entered.

Immediately, she was greeted by a flurry of pink and a squeal. "Lissa!"

Gracie Luna threw her arms around Lissa, and squeezed her so tightly she could hardly breathe. Her best friend smelled like cake, just like she always did, and her hair was still the same blonde, and she was smiling, though things were different. Her pink dress was a far cry from the ones she had worn during the Selection, a one-shouldered silk with elegant draping. She looked older, and it wasn't just from the stunning makeup she wore. "I'm so glad you're finally here! When Christine told me you were the new governess I just about died!" Gracie hugged her again, and over her shoulder, Lissa's eyes found Wesley, seated with a drink in his hands, avoiding her gaze.

"It's wonderful to see you, Gracie," Lissa said. She hadn't seen her friend since she'd been eliminated, but it felt exactly the same.

Gracie grabbed the arm of a tall, dark haired man wearing a fitted blue gray suit. "Babe, come here," she said. "Damian, this is Lissa. Lissa, this is Damian, my boyfriend, and Colin's Head of Security."

"It's true, she screamed so loud I thought something was wrong," Damian said as they shook hands. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Lissa smiled, "You too. I hope she's good to you. Ethan did propose to her, you know," she teased.

"Speaking of which," Gracie said, leaning close to Lissa and peaking over her shoulder. "Have you talked to Wes yet?"

Of course, Gracie would bring that up. Lissa stared at her shoes for a moment, and shook her head. "No, but he doesn't need to. We were kids when we said all that stuff to each other."

Gracie gave her a funny look, but before they could continue, Nat and Nicole were there to greet them.

"Lissa!" Nicole cried, and copied Gracie with the hug. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet you when you got here, Jamie was having a meltdown, he was so tired from the trip back."

She looked every bit the princess in her light blue gown, her hair swept up and a simple tiara adorning the top of her head, catching the light.

"It's going to be like old times soon in the Woman's Room!" Nat pushed her twin aside, and crushed Lissa into a hug. "What, with me and Gracie here and now Adele and Elvira and you!"

Nat was a bit unrecognizable with her short hair, but she looked smashing in the wine red, boat neck gown she wore.

"And that means no boys allowed," Gracie said to Damian, standing on her toes to kiss him.

"I'd introduce you to the husbands, but they're all being shy," Nat cast a glance towards the men, clustered around each other.

Captain Elvira Entrinken joined them, dressed in black halter gown with a leather belt to match her heeled leather boots. "You and me will be the only single ones left, Lissa," she said, giving her a one-armed hug. For all her intimidating dark make up and dresses, she was one of the nicest people Lissa had ever met, which was probably why she was so good at her job of protecting the common people.

"And don't forget me," an arm looped it's way around her neck, and the final gal pal of the dinner party joined them, Lady Adele Evans, the wife of the Prime Minister and self-titled First Lady of Illea. With one arm around Lissa and the other around Nat, the current blonde beamed, "Though seeing you again is making me feel old, Lissa. I have three kids and you're still single."

"Oh, come on, I was fifteen when Ethan's Selection began," Lissa said, giving her a side hug, "And you still look fabulous."

Out of all the girls, she had only seen Adele once, three years ago during her and Colin's trip to Tammins, where they had met up for a few hours. Even up close, she was still stunning, and she had been on the news almost as much as Nicole had. Now, her shoulder length hair was dyed a darker, more reddish but still blonde, though she had been sporting every shade under the sun. Along with her trademark red lipstick, she looked absolutely stunning in the loose ivory tulle gown she wore, with silvery accents paneling down the front.

"My littlest, Holly, just turned two, and Gideon will be four soon, so I wouldn't mind having another," Adele said, "though you're probably going to be seeing a bit more of Juliet, she's five, and she absolutely adores Evie and Sophie."

"Well, the more the merrier, in my opinion," Lissa said. "I'm not sure they like having a governess much, if I'm honest."

"They'll get used to it. They didn't like me either for a long time," Nat placed a hand on Lissa's arm.

"And they still run away from me," Elvira added, "I think it's the black, but I won't stop wearing it until they invent darker color."

Gracie, quite the contrast in all her pink glory, hugged Elvira. "And we wouldn't expect anything else."

"So, tell us, are you staying?" Nicole asked, "leaving behind the military to be on the Council?"

Elvira smirked. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"What's this about joining the Council?" Colin Evans, the first ever Prime Minster of Illea said, joining the group of women, and draping his arm over Adele. "Because yeah, Ben and I just did that."

"They do everything together, I swear," Nat muttered to Lissa, filling her in.

"You'll have to contend with Elvira, hon, because she did too," Adele said, snuggling up to her dark haired, scruffy faced husband who usually never actually looked or acted like a prime minister.

"So, I guess Connelly is the only one left, though he couldn't make it tonight," Colin said. "Get ready for us to always be around."

"If you're here, that means Damo probably is too, so I'm happy," Gracie chimed in, though her boyfriend seemed to have disappeared.

Lissa let the conversations of the older former Selection comrades and their significant others swirl around her. So much had changed for them in the last several years, yet here she was, back at the palace again. Except this time, Prince Wesley wanted nothing to do with her.

She was saved from her embarrassment by the butler announcing dinner, but as the rest of the royal family (minus the kids) and their guests went into the dining room, Nicole grabbed her arm, holding her back.  
"Listen, I just wanted to tell you something, since they're going to announce it tonight to the others, and then the Report in a few days."

"Ooh, sounds serious. Spill it, Nic," Lissa said, grinning at her friend.

"Wesley's having a Selection. He decided a few days ago."

Lissa felt the breath catch in her chest, but she forced a smile anyway. "Why would you need to tell me ahead of time?"

"Well, it was pretty obvious the two of you had a thing…"

"Maybe we did six years ago, but whatever it was-" she glanced at the dining room door, but didn't see him, "—it's over now. Like I told Gracie, we were just kids then."

Nicole looked at her with sympathy or understanding, Lissa couldn't tell which, and then nodded. "If you say so."

They followed the others into the dining room, and Lissa found her seat by Gracie.

She looked across the table, finding Wesley at the other end. He met her eyes and gave a hard, terse smile as they made eye contact, before quickly looking away.

Maybe they had just been kids, but what she hadn't told Nicole and Gracie was that she'd been holding on to all his promises since then.

And this hurt more than she cared to admit.


	4. Like Wooden Ships

**Review hugs to** Miss Kaydence, Nameless, canifindtheone, delovlies, airdog1208, **and my guest reviewer (If you would like to submit, you'll have to finish the form! Also make sure to pick a province that is open—see my profile!)**

 **So I had every intention of getting this out by Wednesday, but that didn't work obviously. Still, it's a long chapter, and if you've read Selected Twins, a bit of a throwback :)**

 **Also, though technically the deadline has passed, I'd be willing to accept a couple more characters (especially from St. George). They won't be in this chapter, obviously, but they can still be in the story. If you haven't sent in your whole form, please do so as soon as possible (though don't lose sleep or anything over it!)**

 **-Shades**

…

"So you're one of the princes, huh?" the guy said.

He looked at Elvira-Captain Entrinken, he reminded himself- who's only reaction was a slight raise of the eyebrow and twitch of the lips. They had discussed this—people were allowed to know who he was, but that didn't mean it would be common knowledge. No one else in the former civilian airport of Denbeigh had given him a second look. But this was his new co-pilot asking, so he supposed he had the right to know.  
"Yep…you got me there," he said.

"Your sister's hot," the guy said, before extending a hand. "I'm Drake Ferguson, and I hear that we're going to be partners."

He allowed himself a smile, at Drake's easy-going way. They shook hands. "You heard right."

"And you better hope Wes knows what he's doing, Ferguson," Captain Entrinken said, "I hear you barely passed your last rating."

Drake smirked, and looked at his boots. "I passed, didn't I?"

Captain Entrinken pursed her lips, and looked very much like she was trying not to smile. "So, your first mission together shouldn't be difficult. Connelly needs new reinforcements in north Hudson—with Bankston seceding, you guys are going to need provide resistance from the air, we're having trouble getting the troops to safety. Rebel aircraft isn't advanced, not like ours, to be honest, you're more for show than anything,"

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Elvi—Captain Entrinken," he hastily corrected himself. "I'm sure we can handle-"

His next words were cut off as a blaring siren filled the compound, and a second later the lights cut out. He heard Elvira mutter a curse and then the ground shook. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, and there was broken glass in front of him.

He blinked, shaking his head to clear it, before realizing that he couldn't hear anything but the steadily increasing ringing in his ears. He looked over his shoulder, Drake was getting to his feet slowly, but Elvira was unconscious, her uniform sparkling from the glass bits—she had been standing closest to the now shattered window.

He sat up, as Drake was trying to tell him something, with vivid hand signs and mouthing emphatically, but to no avail. He pointed to Elvira, and Drake nodded.

The two managed to get one of her arms around each of their shoulders, stuck in the terrifying silence and feeling of the unknown. Then Drake was prodding him relentlessly with his free hand, pointing out the blown-out window.

He turned, and felt his blood chill. Any of the planes that had been there moments ago were burning, and he watched in horror as the one closest to them exploded. Even from there, he felt the wave of heat seconds later. Men in dark, dirty clothing were swarming over the tarmac, departing from Illean military helicopters and trucks, with no effort taken to hide their branding.

They were here, they were coming, they were all going to die.

They were here, they were coming, they were all going to die.

They were here, they were coming, they were all going to die—

Wesley's eyes shot open and his chest heaved for breath. With a shout, he sat up, jerking off the covers, eyes straining to see as he struggled to catch his breath.

His room at the palace. Angeles. Safe.

It was okay. It was okay. It was okay.

He didn't dare close his eyes, the memories still lurking too close. It was morning, and outside, the sky was beginning to lighten. He switched on the lamp beside his bed anyway, chasing away the terror.

When his heart stopped slamming into his ribs and his breathing returned to normal, he laid back down, even though getting back to sleep would be futile.

Two weeks had passed since Wesley had returned home from Trentworth with the rest of his family, and he had agreed to a Selection, and literally ran into Lissa and found out she was the new governess, and things hadn't gotten any less crazy then they had been that day.

It wasn't a bad kind of crazy, and it was nothing compared to the nightmarish hell that had been the last several years just inside the front lines.

But it was different, and he wasn't sure he really liked it. Deciding there wasn't much use prolonging the coming day, Wesley got out of bed, and went to the window to look out over the gardens.

Sure, there were always meetings, especially with the new Council members as they discussed moving into a new era for Illea, which meant that the palace was almost always full of Adele and Nat along with Colin and Ben, not to mention Elvira, Gracie, and Damian too. But then there were other times where he felt like he was going to spontaneously combust into flames from doing nothing.

On the other hand, aside from their single conversation, he had successfully been avoiding Lissa, which wasn't hard, as she was with Evie and Sophie all the time. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to her, it was just that he didn't know what to say, or what she would say, or anything. He could start by asking her why she had never contacted him after the revolution failed, or come to Ethan and Nicole's wedding, or why he hadn't seen or heard from her in five years.

But the truth was, he was scared to know. So, he left it alone.

He heard the door to his rooms open, and footsteps.

There was someone else who wouldn't leave him alone.

"Good morning, Sir," Joseph Sheppard said, in that annoying way of his, as he passed Wesley's room and went into his office carrying a fat folder. "Your mother asked me to bring these to you. I believe they are important regarding your Selection."

Wesley has asked his mom several times, okay he even begged, but she still insisted he needed a valet to choose his clothes and the like, and Joseph was the most qualified available one. It didn't change the fact that he was an arrogant little bastard who didn't even like talking to the footman, let alone taking orders from a prince.

It was frighteningly irritating how he was always hovering about Wesley's rooms, even when he wasn't there. He was always moving things and taking things from his closet and leaving doors open, and Wesley had caught him yelling at the house maids who came into clean a few times, though it seemed like he spent the majority of his time talking to the other valets and ladies' maids. In fact, without a doubt, whatever was in that folder, Joseph had seen in first, and probably ninety percent of the upper staff.

"Okay, you can just leave it there for now," Wesley said, hoping he would leave. Of course, he didn't, and Wesley could hear him opening his closet door. "Um, I'm good right now, you can go."

Joseph raised his eyebrows at Wesley, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," the words came out a little harsher than Wesley meant to, and Joseph opened his mouth to speak, but then decided against it.

"Okay. Just trying to do my job," he said, pausing mid eye-roll, before leaving, closing the door a little harder than necessary.

Finally, alone again, Wesley went into his office, eyeing the folder on his desk. He knew what it was, and he didn't really want to look at it. The Selection had been announced on the Report almost two weeks ago and three days ago, their names had been drawn randomly before undergoing scrutiny and background check. They had yet to be announced, so not even the thirty-five girls whose files were in this folder knew their lives were about to change forever. The only ones who did were his Selection coordinators—his mother, Nicole, and Christine. Not to mention Joseph and all his friends, but he decided to not worry about that quite yet.

He heard the door open again, and ran a hand over his face, suppressing a groan. But the light pattering footsteps did not signal Joseph's return at all. Instead, a small blur launched himself at Wesley, hanging onto his leg like it was a playground.

"Uncle Wesley!" Aidan cried, far louder than necessary, as usual. The nephew-blur was followed by two furry ones, one big white one and a smaller brown one.

Aside from the kids, another change to the palace was the two Shreave pups, Jack, the white German Shepard, and Finn, the golden retriever puppy that Andrew and Christine had thought would be a good idea to adopt a couple months ago from Gracie when Damian had decided they had one-too-many dogs in their apartment. They were nice dogs, but growing up, Wesley's father had hated animals actually inside the palace, so it was taking some getting used to.

"Hey, little man!" Wesley said, trying and failing as usual to pry Aidan off his leg. "What's crack-a-lacking?"

He heard Andrew laughing from the doorway, looking very not-very-king-like in his sweats and t-shirt.

"What, you bring him here just to cut off circulation in my leg?" Wesley joked, suddenly feeling the need to shield the folder from sight of his brother.

", the plan was to wake you up because I just heard that you're getting to see your Selected for the first time," Andrew said, grinning. "And I'm on Aidan duty today, Christine has decided she and Nicole are taking a day off."

As if on cue, Ethan appeared in the doorway, Jamie in tow, toddling along on his little legs. "Are we late?"

The kid giggled at the sight of Wesley, and ran towards him, saying something that might have been his name. Wesley bent down to catch him before he toppled over.

"No, unfortunately, _someone_ decided to get up before we could surprise him," Andrew said. "But I take it the forms have been dropped off? We're here to check them out with you."

"Um, in case you two don't remember, this is my Selection and that means it's private, not to mention you're both married."

The room suddenly seemed very small, with his two older brothers, their sons, and the two dogs, and there was no hiding the folder on his desk. He vaguely remembered doing this to Ethan before his Selection, and now that he was on the other end, it wasn't as fun as he remembered.

Wesley burst out laughing as loudly as he could. "Oh, this? You thought this was the forms?" he motioned to the folder, and laughed some more. "Well, sorry bros, but this pajama party isn't going to happen because this is just a bunch of…paper work for the thing we talked about…yesterday, and my valet just dropped it off and now sorry but I should probably get to work!"

He picked up the folder, but of course it had to spill in contents everywhere. Photographs of the girls and their forms suddenly went tumbling everywhere, and the secret was out.

Andrew picked up one of the pictures, and held it out to Wesley. "I'm pretty sure Lady Georgia Sorrel isn't one of the things we talked about yesterday."

Wesley could only give a sheepish shrug as an excuse.

"And I'm pretty sure that you two cornered me in my room and made me rate all my Selected, so we're continuing the tradition now," Ethan said, gathering up a bunch of the forms, and handing them back to Wesley.

Wesley groaned, and then flopped face-first onto his bed. It didn't, however, stop Aidan and Jamie from crawling up there with him and clambering into excessively cuddly positions on his lap, or Ethan sitting in his chair, with Andrew leaning against the wall, and the dogs curling up on the floor.

Andrew gave a dramatic threat-clearing, and nodded to the photograph Wesley was holding. "So, what do you make of our girl from Yukon, Lady Georgia?" She was pretty, with brown eyes and blonde hair, and eyebrows so perfect it made him want to jump off a cliff. He glanced at her form and saw she was a Three, from the recently restored into the union, Yukon.

"I _make_ that I've seen her before," Wesley sneered back. "She was the girl who was on all the rebel propaganda posters. What is she doing here?"

Ethan shrugged. "Apparently being part of your Selection. Or, as I recall the term you coined for mine, one of your concubines," he turned to Andrew. "Eight out of ten?"

"My thoughts exactly," Andrew said, and both of his brothers turned their gaze on him.

He grimaced, "You guys are married."

"And our wives are both way too hot to even fall on the scale of one to ten," Ethan corrected him. "This is for you."

Wesley handed Aidan the photo. "What about you, little man?"

The kid studied the photo, and then looked at Wesley. "She's pretty," he said.

Wesley rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. I give her a seven," the answer was more to spite his brothers than anything, because Georgia Sorrel was really really pretty.

He handed the photo and form back to Andrew, who swapped him for another set, making it clear that this wasn't going to end after just one girl.

"What about Dresden Senna?" Andrew goaded him, smirking. Unlike Georgia's fair complexion and nice makeup, Dresden had rough looking olive-toned skin, with a scrape on one cheek, and a dark braid hanging over her shoulder. Her face was angular and rather harsh, aside from her full lips.

"She looks a little scary," Ethan said. "Where's she from?"

"Columbia, so she'll have seen lots of the fighting," Wesley read. "She's a Six, so that won't help much."

"She's still pretty. I give her an eight too," Andrew said, peering over Wesley's shoulder.

"Nah, I'd go for a seven. She looks like she could kill someone," Ethan shuddered, and Wesley looked at Dresden's picture again. Come to think of it, she looked a bit like Ebony Winters, one of the girls from Ethan's Selection, which was not a pleasant memory.

"Six," he said, once again out of spite. Aidan demanded the picture too, so Wesley let him and Jamie look at it while Andrew read the next form.

"Here's Nikoli Castway. She's a Seven from Dakota, and it says here she makes dolls for a living."

The girl looked nice, with short dark hair, green eyes and pale skin, and she was smiling sweetly in the picture.

"Doll making," Wesley stated, "that's an interesting occupation."

"The girls will probably like her," Andrew said, "they're crazy about dolls."

The mention of his daughters made Wesley think of Lissa, but he quickly pushed her out of his mind. "I'd give her a five."

His brothers agreed, and then they moved onto the next girl. Several more passed in a blur, and he had no idea how he would ever remember Lady Nellie from Labrador from Lady Gwendolyn from Lakedon.

Lady Fallon Berlin from Atlin was the next girl who caught his attention. At first, he just liked the way she looked, with her long dark hair streaked with blonde at the ends, but Andrew caught his attention.

"Now, I think you should know that Lady Fallon wasn't randomly picked. Her father negotiated a deal with me to let her in, and I decided not to turn him down. Besides, the people in Atlin and all over know who she is, and they love her," Andrew said, serious for the first time since this had begun.

"She's a Berlin, though," Ethan interjected, "They backed Mitch and the rebels during the revolution, and they were the driving force behind Atlin's secession."

Wesley didn't know much of the inside details from the war, since he had been off actually fighting, so this was news to him. But Fallon didn't look like a rebel supporter any more that Georgia had, with a certain softness and vulnerability to her face.

"But isn't the whole point of my Selection to bring unity back anyway? I give her an eight," Wesley said, passing around her picture for them to all see. It was the highest score he had given since they had beginning, and both of his brothers swapped grins.

"I still bet she's going to be a revolutionary. I give her a six," Ethan frowned, and Wesley knew his brother would never forget what happened to them during Mitch's attempted revolution.

"That doesn't change her looks," Andrew told him, "I give her a seven."

"Hey, she's a model, guys. Give her some credit," Wesley reached for the next in the stack. "And Ophelia Aziza is a musical theatre star. She's from Waverly, obviously. Any of you heard of her?"

"Yeah, actually Nicole and I went and saw her perform a few years ago. She was really talented," Ethan said, "I thought her name sounded familiar."

Ophelia was striking, with her golden-olive skin, black curls, and deep brown eyes. She looked friendly, in a soft sort of way.

"I'll give her a seven," Wesley gave his go-to answer. It was intimidating when he remembered that he would actually have to date these girls.

Ethan gave her a six and Andrew gave her a seven too, and they moved to the next girl in the stack.

"Valette Mali, a neurosurgeon in training, from Whites," Ethan read, as he turned her form over to Wesley. "It says here her father is the Indian ambassador to Illea."

"Yeah, Ambassador Mali requested asylum for his family, but we never could safely extract them," Andrew said. "Hopefully there won't be any hard feelings.

Wesley studied the girl in the photo, and felt compelled by her lighthearted smile and the sparkle in her dark eyes. She was of Indian descent, obviously, and had black hair and caramel colored skin, along with a ski-slope nose and high cheekbones. "I'll give her a five," he said. She wasn't as striking as Ophelia or Fallon.

"So who is next?" Andrew asked, and Wesley took out the next form in the stack.

"Alyexandria Volkov, a Three from Hudson. She's studying to be a doctor, and I bet she got plenty of experience in the civil war," Wesley said, shuddering to think that a girl who looked as sweet at Alyexandria may have seen what he had.

She had light brownish blonde hair and light eyes that Wesley couldn't decide if they were blue or green. Her delicate face made her look younger than her nineteen years, but she was still pretty.

"She looks nice. I'm giving another six," Wesley said, shifting his arm in an attempt to restore blood flow lost from holding Jamie. Finn the puppy was now sleeping on his foot—on the bed, much to Wesley's chagrin.

His brothers agreed, and Wesley realized this wasn't so bad—at home with his family was much better than on the front lines. He was safe, having fun, and surrounded by people he loved. It could be a lot worse.

They moved through several more girls, and he forgot their names almost instantly, there were so many of them, and his ratings started to slip out of boredom.

It wasn't until they came across a form stamped with the logo of ISRA—the Illean Special Reconnaissance Agency—that Wesley took interest again. The ISRA had been extremely essential to the civil war, and gaining information on the side of the rebels. And one of their top agents, Veyra Tesorero, was now in his Selection.

She definitely looked intimidating, with light bronze skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes. Unlike the other photographs, she wasn't smiling, but stared straight ahead, fixing him with a stern gaze that almost reminded him of Elvira.

"She's 21, your age, Wesley," Ethan pointed out as they perused Veyra's form.

Wesley shoved his brother, "I know how old I am, dummy."

"She's a spy!" Aidan cried, eagerly pointing to the official stamp on her form.

"So, what do you think? I'm thinking five out of ten," Andrew said. "She looks lethal."

"Well, she's in my Selection, and I think she's really pretty so I'm giving her an eight," Wesley countered.

Ethan had obviously gotten bored of Veyra and was now looking at the next girl, "Hey, she's older than you, Wes. How do you feel about that?"

Andrew snatched the form out of Ethan's hands. "And she's really hot, too. Not as hot as Christine, but still."

Wesley gave them a look. "You guys are so messed up."

"We're not doing this for us, we're doing it for you, little bro," Ethan said. "Honestly, I could care less about them, but you have to, so…"

"Okay, let me see her," Wesley grabbed the form from Andrew.

"Lady Lillian Kolt," he read out. "22, lives in Ottaro, caste Four, forestry worker…wow, she is really pretty." Lillian sported shoulder length blonde hair, with green eyes and an elegant, heart-shaped face, and the confidence was evident in her picture.

"I'd even give her a nine," Wesley blurted out, feeling his stomach tighten with the nerve wracking thought of meeting her.

"Nah, still an eight for me," Ethan said. "I like brunettes."

"She looks like Christine, so Wes, I'm agreeing with you," Andrew nudged his shoulder. "How many more?"

"We're only about halfway done," Wesley groaned, and slumped back onto his bed. They went through many more, with Wesley barely glancing at them and muttering random numbers.

"Hey, she looks like Miss Gracie!" Aidan's incredibly loud shout in his ear made Wesley wince, but he sat up anyway, because anyone who looked like Gracie was a good bet to be an awesome addition to his Selection.  
"What's her name?" he asked, as Andrew pulled the form from his son's hand before it was damaged and handed it to Wesley.

"Lady Darcy Campbell, a Six from Fennley," he said.

It was true, she did look like Gracie, with her easy-going smile, light blonde hair and big eyes.

"It says she's a secretary, but it looks like she bakes cupcakes too," Ethan mused from over Wesley's shoulder. "I'm sure Gracie will love her. I'm giving her a seven."

"Yeah, seven for me too," Andrew added.

"Okay, fine, I'm giving her an eight. I like her," Wesley said. He was about to lay back down again, but the next form in the increasingly shorter stack that caught his eye.

There was something in the gaze of Lady Iris Tanaka that immediately intrigued him, so he reached for the next form. Iris's smile was slight, but the way she was looking at the camera made her seem like she was grounded in the world, and she wouldn't just slip away like so many of the names and faces already had. Her long hair looked like it was dyed brown, and her dark eyes held a refreshing coolness that made him want to meet her even more.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Ethan interrupted his thoughts, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks, not realizing how long he had been staring at her.

"Nine," he stammered, though out of all the girls, he felt the most drawn to her, but he didn't want to admit it by giving her a ten.

"Hmm, she's not bad. Still, I'd go with a solid seven," Andrew said.

Ethan shrugged "I was thinking eight, but whatever. There's only three left, shall we proceed?"

Wesley stole one last look at Iris's form, and then switched his attention over to what Ethan was saying.

"Next is Lady Reese Novell, from Bankston. Another secessionist," Ethan said.

"Come on, man. Just because she's from there doesn't mean she is one,"

"You never know…" Ethan got quiet, and handed Wesley the form. He saw that she was a Four and earned her living as a personal trainer. Even though it was just a headshot, it was definitely obvious. She had light tan skin, dirty-blonde hair in a ponytail, and blueish gray eyes framed by long lashes and defined brows. What stood out to him the most, aside from her contagious smile and dimples was the maturity of her face. She was twenty-one, Wesley's age, but it looked like she had seen a lot.

"Wes!"

"Huh? What?" Once again, he had been caught taking in Reese's form a little too long, and had missed his brother's ratings.

"I said she's pretty—I'm giving her a seven," Andrew said.

"I'd go higher. Eight, maybe." Ethan added.

Wesley looked at Reese's picture again, and there was something about her that reminded him of Lissa.

"Yeah…eight…" he muttered, not wanting to think much about it.

The next girl was Lady Callista Ives, a Five from Carolina. Her form said she was a musical entertainer, though she looked anything but. She was pretty, her light brown skin was dotted with freckles, and her black hair was tied in a tight bun, and she sported an edgy nose ring. She was also not smiling in the picture—well, at least not really.

"I don't know about you guys, but she looks like someone you wouldn't want to mess with," Ethan said.

"She looks like she's killed someone," Andrew added. "Or at least tried."

There was a glow in her eyes, Wesley noticed. She may not be so bad after all.

"I like her. I'm giving her a six." She lacked the show-stopping beauty that Lillian and Iris had, but she was still pretty.

His brothers rated her a bit lower, but it didn't really matter since they were married. Anyway, Wesley was just excited to get to the thirty-fifth girl and finish this pajama party—it was getting close to nine and he was starving for breakfast and probably shouldn't have done this without coffee.

Admittedly, he glossed over Lady Piper Green's form. Ethan found it hilarious that she was an exercise rider, like Nat had been in her pre-Selection, pre-princess sister days. He did notice that the Four from Clermont was on the youngest end of the spectrum, at only eighteen, like Valette and Darcy. She had long, straight platinum blonde hair and blue eyes, and smiled shyly at the camera in the photo.

He sighed heavily, and tried to remember all the other girls that had come before her as he gave her a rating.

"Six? Come on, guys. I'm so hungry right now," Wesley begged.

"Yeah, six it is," Andrew said as Ethan nodded.

Wesley deposited Piper's form on the stack of all the others, and nudged Jamie and Aidan off his lap, giving Finn a gentle kick to move the pup off his bed.

"I suppose I should thank you guys," he told his brothers, "but maybe later, because all you've done is delay my breakfast and make me incredibly even more nervous."

Ethan wrinkled his brow, "That doesn't even make sense, Wes."

Andrew slung his arm around Wesley's shoulders, "Trust me, it's really not that bad."

"Oh, it's bad, but the end is worth it," Ethan said.

"Wesley shook his head, and rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but grin. "You guys are the worst. Now come on, get your kiddos and let's go downstairs. I can practically smell the pancakes."

…


	5. Wind Blows Like A Train

**Thank you so much to my reviewers—** Sora Kalopsia, Nameless, Miss Kaydence, canifindtheone, alexiaroosenhaan, Shannaenae, Jcuret98, fivesauce'n'YAbooks ( **x3!) and my guest reviewers!**

 **The next chapter, in a week! And one month into this story! My only announcement is if you haven't, please please please send in the rest of your forms as soon as possible (I am still accepting new characters as well) because they need to be in the next chapter for "interviews" with Wesley!**

 **-shades**

…

While her six-year-old charges were bouncing off the walls with excitement, to Lissa, today seemed like the last shred of hope.

While her first day as the royal governess had been terrible, it hadn't taken long for the little princesses, Evangeline and Sophie, to love her. Now, it seemed like they couldn't wait for her to get to their nursery after breakfast, and never wanted her to leave, even though she technically wasn't responsible for them after six.

Being back at the palace after six years was a change, but all in all, it wasn't very different. She had her own, beautiful room, and a maid presumably came and cleaned up every day while she was at work. She had weekends off, and had spent the first two with Gracie and Damian in their apartment. She had lunch with Evie and Sophie, and the rest of the royal family who could be spared from their work. She ate breakfast and dinner with the other upper servants in their own dining room on the fourth floor, when she wasn't invited elsewhere. Though she hadn't attended another dinner with the royal family, Adele had already had all the girls from Ethan's Selection who were still at the palace over to her home twice, and she had visited Gracie countless times.

There were other things, of course. Joseph continued his ceaseless, shameless flirting with her, and while she had managed to get the rest of the upper staff to call her Lissa, Joanna still insisted on a last-name basis with her. Wesley had also managed to evade her, though she wanted to speak with him now that their initial shock of finding each other at the palace had worn off.

Today, though—today was different. After today, there would be no reason for her to speak with him.

Lissa wasn't paying attention to Evie and Sophie talking excitedly as they walked hand-in-hand with her down to the hallway of the third floor to the stairs. Her stomach tightened, though there was nothing to be nervous about, she tried to tell herself. Since she didn't have a uniform like the rest of the upper staff, she had chosen today to wear her most professional outfit, fitted white pants, a blush blazer and nude pumps, with her hair in a bun. This would set her apart from the rest of the woman in attendance.

Evie, the blonde twin, squeezed Lissa's hand as Sophie, the brunette, practically dragged Lissa down the hall by her other hand.

"Hurry, Miss Lissa, hurry!" Sophie cried.

"It's okay, we won't be late. They aren't due to start arriving for ten more minutes, Evie," Lissa told the little princess. Her voice sounded less confident than usual, but it would pass.

"I can't wait to meet the new princesses," Evie said, smiling up at Lissa as they walked. "I bet they're beautiful."

"Only one of them will be a princess, Evie. Your uncle just has to pick one first." Lissa smiled until her cheeks hurt. Hopefully the girls would be fooled.

When they arrived in the Main Hall, everything was chaos. This was the last Selection for a while and everyone was milking it. Lissa scanned the crowd for Wesley, but didn't see him. In fact, none of the Council was here, with Andrew, Ethan, Colin, Ben, Elvira, and Connelly being absent as well.

She spotted Nicole standing with Nat, the twins giggling over something. Nicole looked every bit a princess in her ice blue day dress, her hair in soft curls. Nat, as usual, rebelled against the standard in her sleeveless white top and black jeans, with a messy braid. Queen Christine hurried over to Lissa and the two small princesses, dressed in a light pink fitted dress with white heels.

"Hello, Lissa. Is everything going okay today?" she asked as her two daughters let go of Lissa's hand and ran to hug their mother, as if they hadn't just seen her a few hours ago at breakfast.

"They're pretty excited, with good reason though. Other than that, they've been fine," Lissa told her. Despite being her boss, Christine was always nice to everyone, and never treated Lissa like an employee.

"Of course, they are! It's not every day a Selection begins!" Christine said, more to her daughters than to Lissa. "Anyway, I needed to tell you that for this Selection, the only meal the ladies will attend with us is dinner, for the sake of the children. So, your routine shouldn't change too much."

Lissa smiled, "that will certainly be less intimidating! I remember being terrified the first time we ate breakfast with the royal family."

"Oh, believe me, I remember it too," Christine laughed. She bent down level with the little princesses and put an arm around them.

While she spoke to them, Lissa seized the opportunity to look around for the mayhem that was the arrival of the Selected.

She remembered coming into the palace for the first time during Ethan's Selection had been nothing like this—she had been met on the drive by the Selection coordinator, Sophia, who she hadn't seen or heard about since she had come back to the palace. The girls from her plane along with her had been given a tour so quick she didn't have any memory of her first impressions of the palace, before being whisked off to get a makeover.

This time, it would be different. She remembered camera crews everywhere, which was also the case now, but to Lissa, it seemed like every servant was clustered in the Main Hall, all wearing their nicest uniforms, in addition to many of the guests. Joanna hadn't been at breakfast, but Lissa spotted the redhead in her standard black dress and heels, today paired with a blazer. She was running around madly, trying to get everything ready. Joseph was leaning against one of the pillars talking to his friends, but he caught her eye and gave her a wink, which she ignored.

Christine said her final goodbyes to her girls and then stood. "If you would bring them up to my office after the ceremony, and then join Nicole and I for tea. We have some things we need to discuss."

"Sure, of course." Lissa said. Christine nodded at Lissa, before hurrying over to Joanna.

Lissa took the princesses hands again, before they got lost in all the chaos. The ladies were due to arrive soon, and she didn't want to be missing her charges then. Aidan and Jamie were with their respective nannies, so she took Evie and Sophie over to them. They had all been instructed on their positions yesterday, so she knew this was where she would stand for the actual ceremony.

She felt eyes boring into her, and turned to find Queen Mother Francesca staring—glaring, actually- at her. The auburn-haired dowager lifted the hem of her floor-length black and gold peplum gown, strikingly formal for late morning but not different for her, and approached Lissa.

So far, Lissa had managed to avoid her, as their track record wasn't the best, and Christine had been the one to hire her. The then-queen had found out about Wesley and Lissa's affection for each other, and had been resilient in her efforts to stop their fling. She had threatened Lissa, and after Wesley was injured in a rebel attack saving Lissa, Queen Francesca had lied to Wesley about Lissa, telling him she had not come to see him, and even stole her letters to him while he recovered.

She felt a chill go up her spine now, as the woman came to a stop in front of her. Lissa forced her knees to bend into a curtsey, but the Queen Mother didn't address her. She greeted her granddaughters first before turning to Lissa.

"Miss Dove, I take it you are adjusting to your new position back at the palace?"

Lissa nodded. "Yes, I am, Your Majesty," she said.

Francesca raised her chin into the air. "Good. We wouldn't want you to feel like it was the same as before."

With that, she smiled slightly, and then left Lissa alone, with the clear intent of her words ringing in her ears. Lissa swallowed, and took a deep breath. Of course, she was right. It wasn't the same as before. She needed to get that into her head.

She saw Gracie at the end of the main hall, close to the west wing, in a bright yellow dress, trying her hardest and failing not to flirt with Damian, who was in the ranks of the guards, dressed in his uniform as the head of security for the Prime Minister. Speaking of the Prime Minister, Adele was herding her three kids, Juliet, Gideon, and Holly over to them. As always, she looked stunning in a high collared white dress with red stilettos to match her red lipstick.

"Hi, Adele!" Lissa said, letting go of Evie and Sophie so they could greet Juliet, who also at six, was their best friend.

Adele scooped up her youngest, Holly, before she toddled off. "I get that they're the Prime Minister's kids and I'm his wife, and Nicole and Christine wanted us to be here, but this is still a bad idea," she deadpanned, trying to hold Gideon's hand with one hand and hold Holly at the same time.

Lissa laughed. "I'll help you out, don't worry. Juliet can stay here with us."

"Oh, thank God. Whenever we come to the palace, they become different kids, I swear," Adele joked, shaking her head. "It was pretty different when we came, wasn't it?" she said, nodding to all the goings-on. "If you ask me, this is a little creepy."

"Yeah, we'll all just be staring at them as they walk down the hall past all of the servants to the Woman's Room. I would have died on the spot from nerves."

"At least Wesley and Andrew and Ethan won't be here. That would terrify them even more," Adele said. "And Colin. Can't forget him."

Lissa smiled, "It all seems so long ago that we were in their shoes, doesn't it?"

Nat and Nicole walked up and joined them. "A lot sure has changed," Nicole said as she took Jamie from his nanny.

"So, how's the new us?" Nat asked as she ruffled Evie's brown curls, before elbowing her twin. "Get it? Because they're twins too?"

Nicole playfully rolled her eyes. "I get it, idiot."

"So, no Selection coordinator this time?" Lissa asked.

"No, we figured there would be less of a need for one, since one of the ladies will be marrying a third prince, and not it direct line for the throne anymore," Nicole explained, her words thudding painfully into Lissa's heart, though she had told Nicole it wouldn't bother her.

"Besides, Michelle and Christine helped out a lot with Ethan's Selection, so now I get to help out. Actually, I may need your help on that one, so if you wouldn't mind, Christine set up a tea in her rooms after this, and I have a few things to discuss with you guys. Gracie too, if she ever leaves Damian for five seconds," Nicole smirked.

The three of them gave their agreement, just as Joanna approached.

"Your highness, five minutes," she told Nicole, before rushing off.

All around the room, everyone was getting into place. Nearly all of the staff, from the ladies maids and valets to the house maids and footmen, were lining up according to their ranks. Lissa followed Nicole, Nat, and Adele with Evie and Sophie, Adele's kids, Aidan, Jamie, and the nannies following. Through the windows she saw guards moving into position for extra security, which meant the ladies were to arrive any moment now.

The Main Hall was packed with all the servants. By the entrance, Francesca, Nicole, and Christine stationed themselves. Next to them stood Adele and Nat. Lissa stood behind the royal women, sort of off to the side so they wouldn't be seen first by the arriving ladies, with the children and the nannies and Gracie. She didn't recognize many of the other non-servants, but assumed they were of some importance. The servants who were not assigned to the ladies or did not have duties stood in their ranks on the other side of the hall, led by Joanna, Joseph, the head butler, and the first footman.

The camera crews were set up everywhere, and she could see them outside. Lissa remembered getting off the plane at the airport back when she was a Selected, the shouting and cheering of the crowds, the light bulbs flashing and the videos filming their every move, people clamoring for her autograph even though she hadn't done anything at all, and two of the girls on her plane had been famous Twos, Cordelia Whitney and Sirena Mastrano.

The footmen opened both of the doors to the outside, and she watched as a black SUV pulled up the driveway. Even now, she could hear cheering of crowds that had gathered outside the walls of the palace, feel the excitement in the room. Joanna left her position, and crossed the hall to stand by Christine and Nicole, and Lissa was close enough to hear what she was saying.

"In this car should be Lady Veyra, Lady Nikoli, Lady Isabella, and Lady Jennie, from Calgary, Dakota, Likely, and Belcourt, Your Majesty," Joanna said.

Despite her heels, Lissa still stood on her tiptoes, trying to catch a glimpse of the girls, one of whom would win Wesley's heart. Guards had opened the car doors, and the footmen were stepping forward to help the ladies out and get their things as they were escorted up the steps and inside the palace. Lissa watched Christine, Nicole, and Francesca personally welcome all four of the girls to the palace, and one of them, she was pretty sure was Lady Isabella, looked like she might faint.

She had seen their photographs on the Report when they had been announced, and along with all of the staff, had been given a sheet of paper to match names with faces so they would know all the girls, but it was still difficult.

Lady Veyra was easy enough, since she was a secret agent and Lissa remembered her. With light bronze skin, black hair and dark eyes, she stood out with her no-nonsense manner, and carried herself through the doors like she feared nothing. She wore a smile like a loaded gun, and even from further away, Lissa could see her taking in every detail of the palace.

As Nicole escorted them to the Woman's Room, Lady Nikoli waved timidly at the children, before hurrying to catch up with the children. Nicole reappeared a few moments later, and returned to her post as the next car pulled up, and Joanna told them that these girls were more local, with Lady Iris from Angeles, Lady Darcy from Fennley, and two girls whose provinces and names she didn't remember.

Lady Iris pushed back her hair, beaming. She was practically bouncing on her toes as she met Christine, though a blush stained her pale skin. She gasped when she saw Gracie standing with Lissa, and turned to Lady Darcy, who was nearly Gracie's twin, with her blonde hair. Darcy only scowled, probably nervous, Lissa guessed.

"I think she recognized you, Gracie," Lissa murmured to her friend.

"Oh my goodness, did she?" Gracie all but squealed, her mouth dropping open. "I can't believe it!"

They quickly quieted down so not to miss Joanna's next announcement that came with two extra guards by the doors, and a increase in booing from the crowds outside.

"These girls are all from secessionist provinces, we have Lady Valette from Whites, Lady Georgia from Yukon, Lady Fallon from Atlin, and Lady Reese from Bankston," Joanna explained.

"And we will treat them like any of the others," Christine said firmly, glaring at the guards. "Please resume your original positions."

The guards stepped back, and the car pulled up. The four girls that got out acted different than the previous, looking around nervously, as if someone was going to attack them. Lady Fallon was looking back at the crowd outside the gates, that had just been cheering moments ago, and had her arms wrapped around herself, her dark hair covering her face.

Lady Georgia, on the other hand, walked straight ahead and didn't look back, only gave her honey blonde hair a toss as she walked up the steps, her lips set into a determined smile. Lissa watched her extend her hand out to Christine to shake, oozing confidence. Her face was a face that everyone had seen before, being a poster girl for rebel propaganda, and it was rather chilling to see it in person, here at the palace. Lissa could see Nicole, Christine, and Francesca being gracious to her, and there seemed to be no trace of her past here.

Lady Valette hesitated as the royals greeted her, and Lissa saw her tense up, though she couldn't hear their conversation, and she could see Georgia glaring daggers into the back of Valette's head. Lady Reese managed to pull off sneakers with her Selection uniform of the white blouse and black skirt, and her dirty-blonde hair was gathered in a messy ponytail, reminding Lissa that she was a personal trainer, as if the muscle definition in her arms and legs wasn't enough. Lady Fallon carried herself like a model, and smiled warmly at the royals as she greeted them professionally.

After the girls from the secessionist provinces left, the rest of the cars came very quickly, with the ladies arriving almost too quick for Lissa to keep track of. The only other girl from province that had seceded, St. George, got booed but other than that, the crowd outside the palace was very excited, almost matching Evie and Sophie. The little princesses kept tugging Lissa down to their level to whisper something to her about how pretty they were or that this one looked like a princess.

They were especially fond of Lady Lillian, from Ottaro, whose golden blonde hair and air of confidence really did come of as princess qualities. Lissa also noticed the Four looking around in amazement at the grounds as she got out of the car, which she thought was endearing, as she recalled the girl was a forestry worker.

Maybe it was just because their mom was blonde and a queen, but the twins seemed to like the blonde girls the most. Having Adele and sometimes Nicole, when the mood suited her, be blonde probably didn't help. They also liked Lady Alyexandria, a tall willowy Three with blondish-brown hair and blue-green eyes, who waved to them and even stopped when she passed them to curtsey to the little princesses. She also was the only girl to acknowledge that Lissa was there, with a smile and a nod.

There was also two girls Lissa made a mental note to avoid, because they probably killed someone or if they hadn't, could. Lady Dresden seemed cold, almost hostile, and Lady Callista made Christine take a step back when she welcomed her. She never smiled, except when she saw the kids, and even then, only barely.

Lady Piper, another blonde who Evie and Sophie quite liked, didn't say a single word, only smiled as she was welcomed, even though Nat broke her chill and introduced herself along with Nicole to the exercise rider from Clermont. Lady Ophelia was striking, with her golden-olive toned skin, dark hair, and tall frame, and the Broadway actress carried herself like a star.

By the time the last of the girls had arrived from Honduragua, Panama, and Dominica, the first groups who were done with makeovers were being led on tours of the palace, and to their rooms.

As the ceremony broke up, and the servants went onto other duties—namely to prepare for the introductory dinner that would be given for them tonight—Lissa was dragged by both sets up twins and Gracie to go see how the makeovers were going. Nicole, of course, had to go because that was her job, and Nat was going to tag along with her. Evie and Sophie were dying to see more of their new idols, so Lissa ended up coming too.

It was pretty much exactly how she remembered, all the chaos of cameras taking pictures and videos, with some girls freaking out and others being drama queens as they changed their appearances. Luckily, as Nat and Nicole made the rounds, the little twins were content to take in the girls from some couches set up for any of the girls who were done, and whisper to each other and Lissa, as they picked out their favorites.

Christine came in a little later, this time with Aidan in tow, who caused havoc running around and hiding in the racks of dresses and shoes, and succeeded in breaking a bottle of nail polish before Christine managed to subdue him and leave with him and her apologies.

After a while, Gracie came and plunked herself down on the couch next to Lissa. "Remember how exciting all of this was?"

"I remember it was too exciting for you—you fainted the first time you met Ethan," Lissa teased her, barely recognizing Lady Iris who debuted a new chic black bob as she made her way over to the fitting rooms.

"And you didn't fall for him at all," Gracie poked Lissa in the ribs, and then gave her _a look._

"What? What's that look for?"

"Come on, Lissa, you know. Are you okay, I mean with all of this? These girls are in Wesley's Selection now, and-"

"Gracie," Lissa cut her off, a little sharper than necessary. "I'm fine. You were infatuated with Ethan, and even you turned him down. People change," Lissa nodded forcefully, trying to convince herself of her own words, her hand going instinctively to her necklace.

Gracie, of course, noticed, but thankfully, didn't mention it, and changed the subject to Lady Alyexandria's new curls and blonde highlights, which inevitably turned to Damian eventually.

In some respects, it was good to be back. But it still hurt, and she wasn't sure if that would ever go away.

…


	6. I Remembered Everything

**Hello everyone! Here's the next installment of Heart! I'm another year older, a semester deeper into college, and I already have over 50 reviews! Thank you to these wonderful folks for reviewing-** Nameless, fivesauce'n'YAbooks, Miss Kaydence, Sora Kalopsia, mnbvcxz-xx **(x2, HI FROM ST!),** canifindtheone, delovlies ( **x2, I forgot to include you last time hugs)** , Anastasia the Goddess of Drama, suicideblonde99, **and my guest reviewers.**

 **Side note to whoever hassled me for updates-that is NOT okay to do to anyone in the manner which you did. It was ambiguous I know, but I meant that it had only taken me a week from 4 to 5, and I never promised to have this one up in a week, I knew I would be busy, and this chapter would be difficult to introduce characters for the first time. Plus this is just a hobby. I'm flattered that you enjoyed the story so much to shout at me about it, and I'm sorry I can't PM you to tell you this, but it sucks to have people angrily demand an update when you're doing your best already)**

 **It was supposed to be all the interviews in one chapter, but this is already really long, and it's been awhile since I've updated, so I'm posting it now. The "flashbacks" I've been including are a bit confusing, but that's on purpose, and they come from the event that took place in chapter 2.**

 **-shades**

…

"Wait, what do you mean, you're not going to be planning my Selection anymore?" Wesley's voice, admittedly cracked as he stared incredulously at his sister-in-law, Nicole's words only making him more nervous because in about five minutes he was supposed to meet his Selected, but he had been ambushed by nearly all of the resident women of the palace at the top of the stairs before going down.

"It's not that I won't be planning it anymore," Nicole reassured him, "I will still be doing that, it's just now they're helping."

All of the girls were beaming—including Christine, Nicole, Nat, Adele, Gracie, Elvira, and to make it worse, Lissa with Evie and Sophie. Gracie was even giggling—not that was new, though.

"I don't get it, I thought it was just you, Christine, and my mom," Wesley gulped. He liked all the older girls from Ethan's Selection, he really did, but there was a not so fine line between liking them and wanting them planning his Selection.

Nat stepped up to him and poked him in the ribs, "Well, who better to plan it than a bunch of us who have been through one? Besides…" she nudged her sister, grinning.

"Besides what?" Wesley demanded, breaking into a nervous sweat. This day kept getting worse and worse.

Nicole looked down, running her hands over the peach silk fabric of her evening gown. "Okay, fine. I wanted to wait to tell you, but I can see I have no choice. Ethan and I are going to have another baby in a few months, so that's why they're helping."

"Well you could have just told me you were pregnant!" Wesley burst out, throwing his arms around his sister-in-law, unable to stop grinning. Even though they were noisy and smelly and generally annoying, he couldn't be happier for Nicole and Ethan. "I thought you were punishing me or something!"

"What, by having us help out? Come on, Wes, it won't be that bad," Nat teased him, "Trust me, we know exactly what we're doing."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Wesley poked her in the ribs as she slipped past him.

"Ready to meet the fiancées?" she said.

Wesley gulped again, "Um, no. But some of you guys better go, I'm sure my mom is terrifying them."

Nat and Adele left in search of their husbands, while Gracie and Elvira headed down the stairs to the dining room.

Ethan and Andrew arrived, dressed up for the occasion of the meet-all-the-girlfriends-dinner, each armed with another kid, Jamie and Aidan. Wesley congratulated Ethan as he watched Christine speak to Lissa and the little girls out of the corner of his eye. It appeared Lissa would be joining the party with her charges, dressed as she was in a simple lavender dress paired with a white blazer to set her apart as the staff.

Despite the fact that he was about to meet the Selected, he couldn't help but look at her while his brothers joked with him. As she followed Andrew and Christine down the stairs with the kids, she looked up, catching him watching her. Wesley quickly looked away, tugging on his tie.

He realized he was left up on the landing with Nicole, Ethan, and Jamie.

"Ready?" Ethan asked him.

"I think I might throw up, honestly," Wesley admitted.

"It's better to just get it over with, trust me," Ethan clapped him on the back as Nicole picked up Jamie and the four began their descent. "You know all their names?"

"I've been memorizing their forms like crazy. Gracie even quizzed me on them until I got them all right."

"That's all you need. You're a natural when it comes to flirting anyway," Ethan joked.

"Yeah, but not like this…" Wesley muttered under his breath. They stopped at the door of the parlor adjacent to the dining room, where the cocktail hour was supposed to take place before dinner, to allow Wesley to speak to all the girls. He yanked on the sleeves of his stupid jacket—another hideous pick by Joseph, no doubt, with navy that was a little too bright to be navy and too dark to be blue but was almost as awkward as he was feeling right now—before he realized Nicole and Ethan were both staring at him.

"Aren't you going to go in?"

"Aren't you guys going in first?"

"Because I think if we leave you out here you might never make it inside," Ethan said. He looked normal in his black suit. Why couldn't Wesley's suit be normal?

"Okay. Okay. I got this. I've been through worse. Okay," Wesley nodded firmly, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. "Okay," he cleared his throat, and mentally went through a list of names.

When he opened the doors, everyone looked up. There were faces he knew, of course, his mom, Andrew, Christine, the kids, Gracie, Elvira, Ben, Nat, Colin, and Adele. There were also thirty-five hot girls, and every single one of them were staring at him.

And then there was Lissa, and she was the only one who wasn't.

Wesley let out an awkward laugh, and then spun around and slammed the door behind him, nearly bowling over Ethan.

"I can't do this!" He shouted, before realizing that everyone probably heard him. This was too much, too hard, not what he wanted. He backed up until he hit the wall…

The smoke in the air was thick, stinging his eyes, burning his lungs, and making it impossible to see. The bones of the plane shrieked as the metal collapsed, destroying his only chance of survival. He stared at the corpse of his friend, and grabbed his forearm, slick with blood. He didn't know what came over him as he shook the body, the terror was so real.

"Drake, come on. Wake up, Drake. Wake up, you dumbass, wake up!" He cried, his voice cracking. He coughed, trying to breathe with all the smoke. The trees were on fire now, and there were other voices, and gunshots.

"You can't be dead. You can't be dead. YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!"

He shook the body of his friend as hard as he could, blood splattering on his face. Drake's forehead was a mangled mass of blood and bone, his leg was blown off, his brown eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky.

He was hitting him, trying to get him to get up, punching him in the face.

"No, no, no, NO!"

The dirt four feet away from him exploded, and then again two feet away, followed by retorts from guns.

"Royalist plane down!" Someone shouted, hidden by the smoke.

There was important information in that plane. It was on fire, but it would burn slowly, with the gasoline spilled all over the trees, and it being made of metal. He saw the other gasoline tank, intact and not yet burning from the crash. He pulled out his sidearm, fumbling to load it his hands were shaking so bad. He fired three bullets into the tank, and it exploded. The heat washed over him, replacing the cold momentarily as he hid his face in the ground to protect his eyes from the blast.

He blindly fired the remaining bullets into the smoke, but there was only silence.

He reloaded, pulling Drake's ammo out of his pack too.

The forest went silent, expect for the flames.

Maybe they were gone.

Slowly, he released his grip on the gun, and grabbed Drake by the coat, shaking his friend in a desperate attempt to turn back time.

He didn't realize that he was screaming until the bullets were back, and he was only saved when they entered the body of his dead friend instead of him.

Drake was dead.

The terror burst through him, even in the cold he was sweating, his heart racing so fast, breathing coming in gasps between the smoke and the fear.

He didn't say goodbye, he ran.

He was going to die next.

He was going to die next.

He was going to die next.

"Wesley!"

Wesley blinked, realizing Ethan was shaking his shoulders. He sucked in a lungsful of air, everything coming back to normal as the smoke and terror and the rest of the memories faded.

"Are you okay?"

Wesley could only nod as he wheezed, trying to fill his lungs with air. He jerked at the knot on his tie, and then pulled it off, crumpling it into a ball. He didn't miss the way Nicole and Ethan looked at each other.

"You don't look okay. You look like you just had a heart attack or something," Ethan said, slowly releasing his grip on Wesley's shoulders.

"Gee thanks, on this day of meeting my Selected," the joke came naturally, and Wesley didn't even think of saying it.

"Your face just turned white, and you were barely breathing. I thought you were going to pass out, like the other day on the stairs," Nicole said, her face crinkled with worry.

"I just got a little lightheaded," Wesley told her, sagging against the wall. "All the stress…"

"You sure you okay?" Ethan asked. Wesley nodded, avoiding eye contact. He stuffed his tie into his pocket, now that it was hopelessly wrinkled.

"Yeah, I'm good," he lied.

"Do you want to go change your tie? We can tell them you'll be back in a few minutes," Nicole said. "I'm sure-"

"No. I'm fine, just leave me alone," he interrupted. Before he could think too much about it, he pushed past them, and for the second time that night, opened the doors.

Ignoring the stares, he avoided his mom, who was making a beeline towards him, and headed straight to the first footman, grabbing the closest champagne flute before joining Ben and Colin and downing the whole thing.

Both men were watching him when he lowered the glass.

"You good, dude?" Ben asked him, crinkling his eyebrows.

"Just count yourselves lucky you met your girls the normal way," he said, grateful that conversation was picking up around the room again. "I'm fine."

"Where'd your tie go?" Colin said as they exchanged their glasses for full ones.

Wesley shrugged. "It got wrinkled, so I took it off. Where's Damian?"

"He may be Gracie's boyfriend, but he's only my head of security, so he wasn't deemed good enough for the guest list," Colin explained. "But seriously dude, why are you talking to us?"

"There's thirty-five girls in here for you and you're talking the Prime Minister and the Homeland Advisor," Ben said. "I don't get it,"

"Because I'm internally screaming and too scared and sober to go talk to any of them, so please humor me for a few minutes," Wesley said, noticing as Ethan, Nicole, and Jamie entered the room.

Elvira approached, looking intimidating as always, in her high collared dark blue, mostly black dress, her hair swept up. "Can I borrow him for a second?"

"I'm pretty sure you outrank both of us, so yes," Colin said.

"Colin, you're the prime minister," Elvira raised an eyebrow. "You get to tell me what to do,"

"Oh, yeah."

Elvira sighed heavily and waited for Ben and Colin to leave before looking at Wesley.

"So, Nicole told me that you just freaked out out there, so as your former commanding officer, I need to know you're okay?"

"Love her as I do, Nicole takes the big sis thing a little too seriously. I just got nervous about this."

Elvira raised an eyebrow, out of captain mode now. "She also said it wasn't the first time, and that she saw the same thing happen the day you guys got back from Trentworth. And you said you shouldn't have been in that plane."

Wesley let out a bark of laughter, but no jokes came to mind. "I don't remember saying that, but I'm fine. I promise." For the first time, he noticed the sadness in Elvira's eyes, something he never remembered seeing up north.

"Okay, I get that this isn't the best place to talk about it, but if you need to talk, come find me. I'm here all the time now, anyway."

"Will do," Wesley said. He spotted his mother excusing herself from a conversation and head towards him in Elvira, looking definitely like a queen in her long sleeved, high necked purple gown. "But right now, I have to avoid my mother."

He made a quick detour around Andrew, ignoring his brother. If he was talking to him, his mother wouldn't care, and right now, he didn't want to talk about the stunt he had pulled earlier.

"Um, hi, I guess?"

Wesley turned around, finding one of the girls staring at him. She was tall and thin, with light brownish blonde hair, a delicate, heart-shaped face and he couldn't decide if her eyes were blue or green. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress that wasn't quite purple, and wasn't quite brown, but awkward like his suit. She wasn't holding a glass, but did have a contraband dinner roll in her hand.

He opened her mouth, trying to remember his name, but it seemed like the only thing he could remember was his time up north. At least his mother was only watching him from a distance now.

"Um, hi…" he stammered, feeling his face get hot.

The girl smiled, and held out her hand. "I know, there are a lot of us. I'm Alyex."

"Oh, right. Lady Alyexandria. I'm sorry, you look different that your application picture with your…um, mascara like that."

He shook her hand, and then mortification spread across the girl's face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. That's probably exactly how not to greet a prince," she said, quickly curtseying, looking rather ridiculous with the bread in one hand.

"It's fine. In fact, it was nice to feel like a normal human for once."

Alyex smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm so embarrassed, I completely broke the first rule of palace etiquette."

"Don't worry about it," Wesley assured her. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the Selected on them, and if looks could kill, Alyex would be dead by now. He raided his memory for any detail about her.

"You're from Hudson, right?"

Alyex nodded, and he noticed she was gripping the folds of her skirt very tightly.

"Were you close to any of the fighting?"

He immediately regretted the topic of conversation, but thankfully it looked like Alyex did too.

She gave her hair a little toss, and straightened her shoulders. "Yes, I lived close to the border, so I saw lots of it. I mostly worked in the field hospitals," Her smile had faded, and Wesley knew from experience that no one liked to talk about it.

"Is that what you want to do, be a doctor?"

"Yeah, but a fertility doctor. At least I've finally got some experience, my mom always wanted me to a ballerina, so that's kind of all I did until the war." Alyex seemed less tense now, so Wesley figured he was on the right path.

"You should talk to Nicole and Christine then, they're dancers too,"

"Goodness, I think I would die on the spot, they're royalty!"

Wesley shrugged. "You're talking to me, and so am I,"

Alyex smiled, and looked down at her shoes. "Yeah, you're right there, Prince Wesley."

They made small talk for a few more minutes before Wesley excused himself. One down, thirty-four more to go.

The closest girl to Alyex was ribbon thin, with rough olive skin and a mess of dark curls. She stood near two other girls who were giggling to each other, a sneer fixed on her face. He couldn't remember any of their names. She turned away from them, and locked eyes with Wesley, and frowned.

Wesley walked up to her, wondering if she recognized him, but she only fixed him a disapproving gaze. Like him, this girl had seen too much.

She offered a hesitant and forced bend of her knees that was probably supposed to be a curtsey.

"Hello," he said, "I hope you're enjoying your evening."

Her name, what was her name? He had them all down an hour ago, but now he could only remember the smoke, the fear, the body of his friend…

"It seems like a damn extravagance. Your Highness." She added with an afterthought. The way she said it almost seemed like a joke. Maybe it was.

"Oh…um, okay."

"Since you look like you have no idea which one I am, I'm Dresden Senna. Columbia. Six. Occupation: Barmaid. Anything else you need to know?"

"Uh…" At a loss for words, Wesley could only stare at Dresden. He remembered her now, something about her full lips. Only she looked entirely different than her form photograph, dressed in an off-the-shoulder dark purple gown with a black choker, showing off her pronounced collarbone. Her hair was down instead of up, and she was wearing dramatic…mascara or whatever all that stuff was called everywhere, along with deep red lipstick.

"Columbia, you said? Beautiful place," he stuttered.

Dresden made a sound that might have been a laugh. "It was. But you probably wouldn't know, being safe down here in the south."

Wesley bristled, "Actually I do know. I was there. I was fighting."

Dresden batted away an errant curl. "Oh please. They wouldn't let someone as important as you get anywhere close to the danger. You have no idea," she did her curtsey attempt again. "Excuse me. Your Highness."

Out of all the reactions he had pictured, he didn't think he would get into an argument with any of the ladies. Wesley stood rooted there for a moment, wondering what had just happened.

He caught sight of his mom heading his way, and broke out of his trance, moving towards the two girls Dresden had been…tolerating earlier.

He talked to who he found out to be Lady Jennie and Lady Gwendolyn as he avoided his mother, who still was on his tail. Luckily, Lissa remained busy with Evie and Sophie, so he didn't have to worry about her trying to talk to him or something either.

After Lady Nellie, he headed over to Lady Nikoli, who was sitting by herself, holding an untouched flute of champagne. He remembered her form, so he figured she would be a good bet. She was a pretty girl, with delicate features, an upturned nose, and green eyes. She wore her dark brown hair short now, and it framed her face. Nikoli looked uncomfortable in her black pleated gown, covered with cheerful pink roses, but then again, many of the girls did. All he could remember about her was that she was a toymaker, which would make her a Seven. She was looking around in apparent awe at the room, and didn't even notice when he approached, so he stopped awkwardly in front of her.

"Good evening, Lady Nikoli," he began.

The brunette looked up, and her mouth fell open with a tiny gasp before she jumped up, and gathered her skirts to curtsey. As she stood, it became clear that she was about Wesley's same height, but he could also see she wasn't wearing heels, but an old ragged pair of tan leather flats.

"Good evening, Your Majesty," Nikoli said, her eyes wide as she looked at him. "I hope everything is okay, you seemed pretty distressed when you left,"

For what seemed the millionth time, Wesley said, "I'm fine," though his voice was a little sharper than he intended, and she flinched slightly. He forced a smile, "And you don't have to call me 'Your Majesty', I'm not a king. Wesley's fine."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. To be honest, I don't really even know who most of these other people are," Nikoli confessed, fiddling with the bracelet she was wearing.

Wesley tried to relax more, and slouched against the wall. "Really? It seems like we're all over the news and everything all the time."

Nikoli shrugged. "I don't watch the news much, I guess. Too busy with work."

"You make toys, right? That's pretty cool…"

"Just dolls. It's just something I've always loved, and I needed to support my grandmother and me."

Wesley grinned, "Well maybe we can go see Evie and Sophie sometime and see their doll collection. They're obsessed, and I'm sure Lissa wouldn't mind-" he stopped short, but Nikoli didn't seem to notice, only smiled. "Anyway, I guess you've already met some of the other girls, do you know who the rest of the royal family are?"

Nikoli shook her head, and Wesley pointed them out to her, along with the other guests. She didn't say much, but he could only imagine the culture shock she had from a Seven to a lady of the Selection.

After they said their goodbyes, Wesley went to go get another drink. He crossed the room, glancing at his watch. There was still plenty of time before dinner was served, and there were still so many girls to talk to. He smiled politely at the ladies, but didn't engage them. Most of them were standing in small groups with each other, or talking to one of his family members or the others, Colin, Adele, Gracie, Nat, Ben or Elvira.

He caught sight of Lissa, standing with some of the wait staff, handing Evie and Sophie glasses of water, and took a deep breath. She didn't belong here in this room with all the Selected. He knew it wasn't her choice to be here, but it was hard enough knowing she was still in the palace. But he didn't want her to go either. Wesley spun around, and looked around for something to pull his attention off her.

Lady Veyra was a distraction enough, and luckily, he remembered parts of her form. Unlike most of the others, she was standing alone, with one hand on her hip, surveying the room carefully. She looked every bit the secret agent in her strapless black dress and heeled leather ankle boots, her black hair in elegant waves. She watched him approach her, with her dark almond-shaped eyes framed in cat eyeliner. She gave him a coy smile, and curtsied, and he wondered if she'd every killed anyone during her stint with the Illean Special Reconnaissance Agency.

"Hello, Lady Veyra," he said, and admittedly, was nervous.

Veyra's smirk turned into a happy smile, and her eyes lit up. "Hello yourself, Prince Wesley. It's truly an honor to be here."

He already liked this girl, he decided. "It's an honor to have you. First of all, I think that being a secret agent is, like, really really cool, and second, we appreciate your service to our country."

"Says the one who was flying airplanes over the north. Now that, Your Highness, is really really cool," Veyra said. "I barely saw any action, just followed people around waiting for them to make a mistake. Now that everything's over, I'm worried I'll never get to do anything as cool as that."

She talked to him so easily, like they had known each other for ages, and Wesley found that he liked it. "It wasn't that cool. In fact it was more terrifying than anything. I'm glad it's over."

"Is having a Selection more or less terrifying?" Veyra asked, her head cocked. He had a feeling she wasn't just making small talk, but that her spy instincts had kicked in and she was analyzing the situation.

"Well, no one's trying to kill me, so I'd have to say less," he blurted out. "What about you? Is being here scarier than any of your missions?"

"Oh, totally," Veyra nodded enthusiastically. "I almost peed myself when Queen Christine welcomed us earlier when we arrived. And then I was walking around before dinner and some guards found me and almost taser-ed me before they realized I was one of the Selected."

Wesley laughed. "Where did you go, it sounds dangerous if they did all that?"

" _Apparently,_ the third floor is off limits to us, but no one told me," Veyra rolled her eyes sarcastically, and even though most people didn't talk like this to a prince, Wesley found himself enjoying her banter.

"I'm sure if you're with me, you'd be allowed. I'll have to take you sometime and show you how we live. Our bathrooms are entirely plated in gold,"

Veyra giggled, and Wesley promised himself he would schedule that excursion, the sooner the better.

"I'm hoping that means you have the most amazing coffee in the world, then. I'm more than a bit of an addict."

"Hey, I'm sure it's tough to be an agent and get decent sleep. I'll let the staff know to get you the best stuff we have."

Before they could continue their conversation, Lady Isabella joined them, which made Veyra excuse herself with a tight-lipped smile and eye roll as Lady Isabella's fangirl antics. Lady Nellie ambushed him after he got away from Isabella, and the only way he could get away from the two practically screaming girls was to tell them he had important business with the Prime Minister.

He joined Colin after grabbing another drink. The Prime Minister had traded Ben for one of the ladies, something Adele did not approve of, as evident by her glares, though Colin didn't seem thrilled either. Wesley tried his best to recall all of his studying, but try as he might, he couldn't remember the girl's name. She was strikingly beautiful, with her tall frame, voluminous black curls, and glowing golden-olive skin. Even though she was showing plenty of cleavage in her black gown, her upswept hair and statement earrings gave her more of an air of elegance than anything.

"Were you affected much by the civil war?" Colin asked her as Wesley walked closer to them.

The girl shook her head, oozing elegance. "Not too much in Waverly. Mitch Levi's rebels during the revolution took the city quickly, and without much violence. I didn't live in the city then, so I never even saw the soldiers.

"I remember they didn't hold Waverly long, either," Colin said. "And that's about as far from the fighting as you can get."

Whoever she was nodded. "Yes, I was fortunate to live in the city during the civil war too, where I was performing on stage. A lot of the people where I grew up supported both the revolution and the north's secession, so I'm glad I wasn't around."

She must be that theater actress from Old Broadway, Wesley thought. He just couldn't remember her name, and all the war talk wasn't helping. He loitered close by, stopping a footman to get a glass of wine, waiting for her name to be brought up.

"It's scary to know just how far right people went. It just seems unreasonable," the girl continued.

Colin saw Wesley approaching, and quirked his eyebrows. "Uh, I don't think you quite have it correct there, they weren't on any political spectrum, as far as right or left goes. It was outside of politics. No offense, though, Lady Ophelia."

Wesley made a note to thank Colin later for his name dropping. Lady Ophelia just gave him a blank look so he made his move.

"Trying to steal one of my ladies, Colin?" He joked as joined them.

"Never, dude. I'm married." Colin was visibly nervous as he made a hasty exit, clapping Wesley on his shoulder.

Lady Ophelia curtsied, dipping her head gracefully. "Your Highness,"

"You must be Lady Ophelia," he said. "Don't worry about all those titles. I'm fine with just Wesley."

She smiled softly. "It's a pleasure to meet you then, Wesley. It's funny to see you in person after always being in the tabloids."

"I recall hearing about you too," he made another note to thank Gracie for all the info she had dug up on the girls. He actually hadn't heard of Ophelia before, while she got her fame from Old Broadway, he was fighting in the war. "I hear you've been nominated for all those, um, theater awards for your latest role."

Ophelia dimpled, lowering her gaze. "Well I didn't win, but it was lovely to be recognized just the same. I love what I do, and I wouldn't trade it for anything." She spoke softly, but didn't appear to be nervous.

"I know Adele used to perform, between the revolution and the civil war. She left though when Juliet was born."

"I'm a big fan of hers, I saw her in a small role on tour when I was a kid, and she signed my program at the stage door, and now she's the First Lady. My first role was in the ensemble for the show she was in before things got bad, and when she left, I was the understudy for that role."

"Small world, huh? That's really cool."

She told him a bit more about her career before he excused himself, and talked to several girls whose names he couldn't remember at all, and no matter how much prompting he gave, they were clueless. Eventually, he made his way to the bar that occupied a corner of the room to get another drink and take a short break.

As turned around from the bar with a drink to go in his hand—his favorite tequila and tonic—he found himself face to face with Lady Lillian, who was in his mind, one of the prettiest girls in the Selection.

He barely avoided spewing his alcoholic beverage out of his mouth and swallowed hard. Her lips parted in surprise, and her blue eyes widened as she nearly bumped into him. Immediately, she took a step back, ending the close proximity with him, thankfully.

"Crap, I'm so sorry," he stammered, "did I spill anything on you?"

She was his same height in her sandal wedges, and looked even prettier in person, dressed in a neutral colored strapless tulle dress, with little vines of beads twisting down the bodice. It didn't seem like she was wearing much makeup, and she didn't have on any jewelry other than tiny diamond studs, showed off by the fact that her golden blonde hair was slicked back into a bun.

Lillian shook her head as she dropped into a curtsey. "No, it's okay. I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going, and the heels don't help," she motioned to her feet, and lifted up her hem a few inches, before smiling. "It sure makes for a memorable first meeting,"

Running into girls was becoming a far too common occurrence in Wesley's life, he decided. Especially pretty ones that made him turn into a blathering idiot.

"I take it you're not much of a heels girl then."

"Not at all!" Lillian shook her head. "I'm not much of an indoor girl either. I'm so glad our rooms have balconies."

"Right, you are a forestry worker," he said, before realizing how stupid it sounded. Lillian didn't seem to notice, but her face got all soft and it was adorable.

"Yeah, I study the environment and patrol the protected area where I work."

"Where are you from? Sorry, I thought I had memorized everyone, but…" Wesley resisted the urge to facepalm.

"It's okay, I totally understand. I'm from Ottaro."

He resisted the urge to run away and find some nice girl from down south who preferably had never even heard of the war, though not likely. Ottaro had almost seceded, and fighting there had been the heaviest there out of all the provinces that had not seceded. For all her beauty and love of the outdoors, this girl might even be a rebel herself.

"I was there," he blurted out. "I thought it was further west, but that's where my plane crashed…" Trailing off, Wesley remembered the stars, and the landscape dark and quiet as it stretched out before him. Maybe Lillian had been there…

The world around him exploded, and everything was on fire in an instant. It was his plane, at least whatever remained of it. He wriggled out of the parachute, and ran in the other direction—but he tripped over something. Face down in the snow, he didn't move. He could hear the forest around him burning, smell the smoke and feel it burning down his throat. There was a new sound—another aircraft, yelling from closer, gunshots. He twisted around, and saw blood in the snow, and then he saw Drake-

No, he didn't want to remember. It hurt so much.

Lillian jumped back as the glass slipped from his shaking hand, spraying their shoes with glass and liquid. She looked shaken, and for a second he felt bad for startling her.

Then her face started to blur in front of him, and he stumbled back, banging into the bar counter. The vertigo didn't stop, it still felt like he was falling…

Drake shoved him out of the plane before he had time to protest, the parachute strapped to his back. The darkness was everywhere, and it was only getting closer, the pinpricks of light changing into campfires. Rebels, they were down there, they were going to kill him when he got to the ground, he was going to die…

She caught his arm as he stumbled to his knees. She smelled like sugar cookies, and her skin was so soft

"Wes, can you hear me?" Lillian was saying. She was surprisingly strong, her hands on his chest, practically holding him up as he sagged against her. It wasn't working, so she put his arm over her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He tried to tell her that he wasn't okay, but there was so much smoke in the air he couldn't breathe. The rebels knew where he was, he was going to die if he didn't run. But he didn't want to leave Drake…

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor of the staff hallway right off the Main Hall, holding up his head in his hands, propped up against the wall. It was quiet here, and he could hear the sound of waiters and kitchen staff talking, and smell what they were cooking.

"Wes?"

A bottle of water appeared under him, held by a hand with pastel pink fingernails. He didn't label Lillian as the type of girl to wear pink nail polish, but he must have underestimated her.

He looked up, but it wasn't Lillian sitting across from him, with worry etched across her face, the other pink fingernailed hand resting protectively on his knee, an escaped strand of her dusty blonde hair over one green eye.

It was Lissa.

…

…


	7. Every Word Came Back to Me

**YOUR WELCOME GUYS, I'VE GOT A PILE OF STUFF TO DO BUT I DID THIS INSTEAD!**

 **Review shout-outs to** Nameless, mnbvcxz-xx, Anastasia The Goddess of Drama, delovlies, TheGirlWithTheRainbowTattoo, canifindtheone, **and** suicideblonde99, **thank you guys!**

 **Okay, so this chapter is extremely long (just over 9,000 words) so snacks are recommended if you read in one sitting. I wanted to give an overview to all the awesome characters I received, and if you have any problems or issues with the way your character was portrayed, please do not hesitate to let me know! I would love to know who your favorites and least favorites are, too (don't forget the girls from last chapter!). Also, if you have not sent in the rest of your forms please please please do so as soon as possible.**

 **ALSO I LIED THIS STORY IS NOT GOING TO BE 20 CHAPTERS ANYMORE IT WILL BE MUCH LONGER BECAUSE I JUST LOVE ALL THE CHARACTERS. Apologies to those who have not read ST, many of the returning characters make appearances in this chapter.**

 **This basically picks up exactly where the last one left off!  
-Shades**

…

"Here, drink this," Lissa pressed the bottle of water toward his hand.

Wesley didn't know what to say, so he took the bottle and gulped down as much as he could, trying to think of something to say while avoiding eye contact. There was a deep throbbing in the base of his skull, and if he moved his head too fast, things seemed to tilt at a crazy angle.

When the bottle was empty, he felt better, but he still hadn't thought of a single thing to say to this girl, sitting cross-legged across from him, her lavender gown bunched up around her knees, her neat bun now a haphazard mess, the gentle smile on her face, eyebrows crinkled up with worry.

In the end, Lissa was the one to break the silence.

"So, are you okay?"

It was the one question he never wanted to answer ever again, so he didn't answer.

"What happened?"

"That's a good question," Lissa said, drawing her knees up to her chest. "One second I was watching you talk to Lady Lillian, and then you just sorta went blank and stopped talking. Then you dropped your glass, and everyone looked at you, so Christine started making a speech to welcome the ladies. Then I left Evie and Sophie with Gracie and came over to see what was going on. You were telling Lady Lillian that you were going to die, and you kept trying to grab her by the arm. You were trembling so hard and freaking out. Are you drunk or something?"

Wesley winced, but the worst part was that he couldn't remember what had happened. He struggled out of his jacket, realizing he had been sweating like someone who actually ran marathons or something.

"Okay, so maybe I had… _a few_ drinks. And didn't eat anything. Probably wasn't the smartest, seeing as that was combined with a life-threatening event, and honestly, I don't know."

"I didn't know talking to a bunch of women was life-threatening," Lissa said, raising an eyebrow.

She was right, of course. The memories had felt so real though.

"Wes, what happened to you?"

He didn't want to answer that question either.

Lissa sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"I'm assuming you don't want to know what happened after that, do you?" She dug around in the small white purse she had been carrying, and pulled out a plastic bag full of Goldfish. "Here, I had this for the girls in case they got hungry, but you look like you could use it."

Wesley caught the bag as she tossed it. "I don't want to know who else I offended, but I guess you better tell me, just the same."

"Well, when I got there, Lillian was crying, and you just collapsed. I caught you, and Elvira came and got Lillian, and told me to take you out here, so I did. I got you out here, and you kept grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, and telling me to wake up. You wouldn't snap out of it, so I just slapped you as hard as I could, and you sat down and now we're here. You messed up my hair, by the way."

Wesley tossed a handful of the crackers into his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say to her. They hadn't seen or spoken to each other in five years, and when they finally did, he'd freaked out so much that he'd gone crazy and mixed up memories with the present. Now they were sitting in a hallway and she'd given him snacks.

"I'm sorry. It still looks great, by the way…" It was the only thing that he could think of, but he regretted it as soon as he'd said it. Lissa just shrugged, and then pulled out the remaining hairpins and began to try to fix it while Wesley ate Goldfish and tried to come up with a way to explain what happened back there, but it was difficult when you couldn't even remember.

The question burst out of him before he even considered if he should ask it, she was just so cute sitting there with her hair all messed up and Wesley realized he knew nothing about her anymore.

"Did you ever go back to working in a club?"

Lissa froze, one hairpin in her mouth and the other halfway into her chignon. Her face screwed up, and for a second, Wesley thought she might slap him again, or cry. But she regained her composure and calmly took the pin out of her mouth.

"No. I never even thought about it. It's nice to know that that's what you thought I was doing all these years," Lissa said, avoiding eye contact. Her tone had hardened, and there was a new tenseness in her shoulders. She had come to Ethan's Selection from a background as a fifteen-year-old burlesque dancer trying to take care of her family, and had always been embarrassed about it, even when he first met her. Some of the girls had ruthlessly humiliated her for it, and she rarely spoke of it.

He hated himself for asking about it, and obviously she did too.

"I didn't know what else to think. I never heard from you after I met you while I was Tammins."

Lissa's green eyes flashed dangerously as she jumped to her feet. "Well I never heard anything from _you_ either, so go ahead, think the worst of me. She's still just some slut who has no respect for herself, what the hell is she doing working as a governess, right? I'll tell you what—after I left Ethan's Selection, I went to college, I double majored in English and Illean History. The Selection money didn't last forever, so I had to earn my scholarships. I took care of my family, I worked as a secretary in a school so my mom and my brothers could have a nice house and go to school and eat well. When the rebels occupied for Tammins during the revolution, I worked in the hospital and in a refugee camp with the kids coming from Angeles and Fennley. And then when everything was over, I got a call from Queen Christine asking me if I wanted to come interview for the position. So no, I never went back."

She glared defiantly at Wesley, and it hurt almost as much as letting her go last time. Only back then, she loved him.

"Lis, I'm sorry. I'm just so messed up right now…"

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "Here," her hands went to her throat and she unclasped the silver chain she wore, and pulled out the hidden necklace from under her dress, the same one he had given her on their shared birthday, all those years ago. "I think you should have this back." Her tone was frosty as she shoved it into his hand. "Maybe give it to one of your new girls."

That was how the queen found them, glaring daggers at each other in a servant's hallway, with Lissa's necklace thrust into Wesley's hand that wasn't holding a bag of snacks meant for the little princess, without any trace of whatever had happened before in the dining room.

Queen Francesca arched her eyebrows, and cleared her throat, causing both to jump apart.

"So, it was her that caused you to make that scene, was it Wesley? I knew it was a mistake to let her back in the palace," she said.

"Mom, it wasn't like that," Wesley protested, though it was clear the queen didn't believe a word she said.

"Oh really? Then why are you out here with her instead of in there meeting your Selected?" She didn't give him a chance to answer, only turned to Lissa. "Miss Dove, you have left your charges unchaperoned, and I think it would be best if you returned to them. One more infraction and I'll make sure your fired for neglecting your job," she snapped.

Lissa nodded, and curtsied, never raising her eyes from the ground, and made a hasty exit back to the dining room.

"Mom, it wasn't her fault!" Wesley cried, stepping in front of her. "I just…"

He just freaked out and had a full-blown panic attack or something, and hadn't been able to separate memories from reality. Maybe he really was crazy.

He didn't think he'd ever be okay again.

"You just what?" Queen Francesca crossed her arms over her chest. "Made Lady Lillian cry because you were so rude to her to sneak out with _her_? I knew you two had a flirtation during Ethan's Selection, but I thought it was over by now."

She had it all wrong, but there was no way he would tell her what was going on with him. No, it was better that no one knew, so no one would have to feel guilty or try to fix him. He had to fix this quick.

"Look, I'm sorry, and I'll apologize to Lillian, but this is really hard for me, and Lissa took me out here because I had a little too much to drink and was going to throw up. Elvira told her too because I was making a scene. That's why Christine did the welcome speech then instead of before dinner."

His mother's eyes softened, and she sighed deeply, before placing her hand on Wesley's shoulder. "Wes, honey, I knew that Lissa's presence wouldn't be easy for you, but I think it's more than that. Making the adjustment back to royal life after the freedom of the army is going to be difficult, and I understand that. However, it is unacceptable that you continue to meet with her. Realistically, there isn't a reason for you to talk to her unless you're with Evie and Sophie."

Wesley just nodded, because he didn't really know what else to do. Maybe it was time to let Lissa go. He tucked the necklace into his pocket, fighting back against the rising despair he felt.

Queen Francesca continued, her tone softening. "Now, dinner will be served shortly, and as I gather, you still have several of the ladies to meet. So, I want you to go back in there and this time, you stay, no making a fool of yourself by going back out like you did earlier. In case you forgot, there are cameras everywhere, and they've caught all your stunts you've pulled tonight. This isn't a joke, and you need to take it seriously. You can apologize to Lady Lillian later, just make sure you meet the rest of them, okay?"

"Okay," he repeated dully. His mom smiled, and pulled him into a hug, before doing her best to fix his hair, which he immediately messed up again when she wasn't looking.

He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't admit to his mom that he still had nightmares so bad he barely every got any sleep, or that sometimes thinking about the Selection or seeing Lissa made his panic so bad he thought he was back up north, or back in the plane crash. He didn't want her to know that he had to sleep with the light on or get drunk to even fall asleep, or that flying home from Trentworth had triggered the memories and that he'd had panic attacks that made him go insane.

Most of all, he didn't want to tell her what happened to cause all that. No one deserved to hear what had happened, and there was no way he was going to face his demons to tell her anyway.

As they re-entered the dining room, everyone looked up at him. He only saw Lissa, who quickly looked away, her attention back on Evie and Sophie.

"I'd start with Lady Valette," Queen Francesca said. "I know there are some tensions between her family and the crown, but I spoke with her earlier and she seems like a lovely girl."

She left him alone then, though her spot was quickly taken by Ben, with two shots of tequila in his hands.

"Here," the senator-turned-Council member handed the other drink to Wesley.

"Thanks man, cheers," Wesley tapped his glass with Ben's, and they drank. He probably shouldn't, as he'd already had quite a lot to drink, but to be honest, he didn't want to remember this anyway, and the less he remembered, the better.

"You know, sometimes I remember what happened up north too, when we rescued you guys from the warehouse. It's scary, and I don't think I can ever forget some of what happened."

"You don't?"

Ben shook his head. "Not usually. It stays with you. And I know you were in the action for much longer than I was. Just know, we're here for you, buddy. If you ever need to talk, just come find me, or Nat, or Colin or any of us, okay? I know this can't be easy for you."

Wesley swallowed hard. It would be impossible to tell any of them what happened. "Okay. Thanks, Ben," he said instead. "And thanks for the shots, I've still got tons of women to meet," he rolled his eyes, and Ben laughed before leaving him alone.

Wesley spotted Lady Valette, standing with Lady Piper, and went over to join them. He remembered Valette was the daughter of the Indian ambassadors to India, who had requested asylum during the civil war, but because of safety issues, they had to leave the ambassador in Whites. As for Piper, he was just glad he remembered her name.

"Good evening, ladies," he said, coming up behind them.

Both girls turned around, though it wasn't the warmest welcome. Piper gasped, her cheeks turning pink. The blonde held one wrist with her other hand, so her arms were folded over her pink silk dress protectively. Valette offered a polite smile and remembered to curtsey, but he could tell she was tense. Piper curtsied clumsily as soon as she saw Valette do it.

"Good evening, your Highness," Valette said. She was striking, especially with her Indian heritage. She had soft caramel skin and dark almond-shaped eyes, with dark hair twisted into a fancy updo. Even in her heels, she was tiny, dwarfed by her one-shouldered gown, with a deep emerald skirt and cream beaded bodice. On the other hand, Piper had fair pale skin, blue eyes and platinum blonde hair that was curled in tight ringlets for the occasion. She was only a bit taller than Valette, but wasn't as petite, just thin.

"Are you enjoying your time at the palace so far?" Wesley asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes, thank you, Your Highness," Valette said with a cordial smile. Piper only gave a nod in agreement.

Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly. Where was Ben with another shot when you needed him?

"Where are you guys from again?" he asked.

Valette frowned. "Whites, Your Highness. Glad to be back in the rest of Illea now that the civil war is over."

"Yes, well I was briefed on your family's situation and I do extend my deepest apologies. Sending a military escort for your family into a seceded territory would have likely ended up in a lot of deaths."

His words were blunt, probably a bit more sarcastic that necessary, but at this point, Wesley was losing his good judgement.

Valette narrowed her eyes, lifting her chin. "Yes, well no thanks to the crown, we made it out alive."

They stood in charge, awkward silence for a moment, before Wesley realized Piper had yet to say anything.

"What about you, Lady Piper? Where are you from?"

The blonde's blue eyes widened, and she coughed, before barely murmuring out something.

"Sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I'm from Clermont," she said.

"Oh, cool. My sister Michelle lives there with her husband and kids. I've been there a few times, the weather's like here. You should adjust pretty easily."

Piper smiled and nodded. It was clear she didn't want to talk much, but he didn't really want to talk to Valette more. He decided to ask both of them another question.

"So, what do you guys do back in Whites and Clermont?"

"I recently started studying to be a neurosurgeon when the University of Whites reopened," Valette replied coldly.

"Cool, brains and nerves…" Wesley said. They both turned to Piper.

"Um," she began, eyes widening even more. "Exercise rider."

"Oh, that's awesome! Nat used to do that, before her sister became a princess and everything. Now she's actually a jockey, or at least she was. I never know with her. Do you work at a track?"

Piper nodded, and once again the conversation died.

"Okay, well it was lovely to meet you both. I'll be sure to speak with you again soon."

Neither girl said anything, so he gave them finger guns in goodbye and went on his way.

He was approached by a raven-haired girl in a lacy pink and white gown as he left Valette and Piper. She was about average height, with pale skin, and elegant features. She carried herself like a dancer, and he suspected she was one.

"Hello, Prince Wesley," she said, curtseying. "I'm Eleanor Archibald. I just thought I would say hello before you left again."

She was smiling brightly, and looked nice enough, if nervous. He had to admit, it took guts to approach a prince like that. He didn't remember her from the Report or from his brother's pajama rating party, however, but gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Lady Eleanor, it's nice to meet you."

"I just wanted to thank you for this incredible opportunity. The girl who was originally drawn from Tammins declined, so I was the runner-up."

That would explain why he didn't remember her.

"Well, your certainly welcome. I'm glad you could be here."

Wesley studied this girl, from Tammins, the same province that Lissa had been from. He stole a glance over his shoulder and saw her watching him and Eleanor at one of the tables with the little princesses. Once again, she quickly looked away. She seemed incredibly nervous, but she managed to come off as calm and collected, which he knew from experience took an incredible amount of skill. Physically, she drew resembled to one of the girls from Ethan's Selection, Ebony Winters, who had died under complicated circumstances when the royal family were held hostage in Yukon. She had the same long dark hair, angled cheekbones, and full lips, though green eyes instead of brown. But she was a lot nicer, this he noticed already.

"I'm sorry to come up to you like this, I know it was probably rude…" Eleanor's confidence seemed to slip, and she tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her bun back into place.

"No worries. It's a little refreshing to not have to make the first move. So what do you do, back in Tammins?"

Eleanor smiled, and Wesley decided she looked really pretty when she did. "I'm a ballerina. I'm nearly done with my training, and before I got Selected, I was beginning to train for my company auditions," Eleanor paused, and stumbled over her words. "Uh, I mean, it's not bad or anything, I, um, I'm glad to be here."

"Hey," Wesley lightly touched her hand. "It's okay, I don't expect you guys to completely leave behind your old lives, and I don't mind if you do your training here or whatever. I'm just glad you're here."

Eleanor lowered her gaze, biting her lip. "Thank you, Prince Wesley."

"No need to call me prince. Wesley's fine. Who knows, I might forget to answer if you call me that."

Eleanor laughed. "Alright. Well, thank you, Wesley."

They said their goodbyes, and before he quite realized it, he was introducing himself to a whole group of ladies.

When he finally had a moment to himself, he was mobbed by his older brothers, standing on either side of him.

"How's it going, little bro?" Andrew asked, draping an arm around Wesley's shoulders.

"Everything okay?" Ethan said.

Wesley groaned, and rubbed his face with his hand. "I don't even know. I still have ten girls left."

"No, like earlier. Are you okay?"

Wesley was really getting tired of people asking him this. "I guess so. It's not important right now."

"It's almost eight, you better make those last girls quick," Andrew put in. "I know you talked to Lady Lillian, but what about Lady Iris? You gave both of them nines."

Wesley wrinkled his nose. "Um, no, I haven't."

He surveyed the room, but didn't see her.

Andrew scoffed. "Why not?"

"Because she's really pretty and I'm kinda drunk?"

"Whhhattt? Come on, dude."

They then proceeded to steer him over to the bar and quickly convinced him to do more shots of tequila with them for courage. It probably didn't help that they were fairly tipsy themselves, and enjoying themselves far more than they should.

"You guys are going to ruin me," Wesley scowled, smoothing back his hair and adjusting his lapels as he located Iris with Ethan's help. "Hey, she cut her hair!"

The Three from Angeles had indeed. In fact, Wesley saw she had dyed it too, though the black seemed more her natural color than the brown it had been before. It now hung just above her collarbone, and tonight, it was parted on one side and lightly tousled. She looked even hotter in person, in a fitted white gown that hugged her hips down to her knees before flaring out slightly. The V-shaped neckline was bordered with a stripe of black that went with her hair and pale skin very nicely. She had a soft face, one that made him want to go talk to her even more (though the alcohol helped), and had a cute button nose, round cheeks, and full lips.

He was about to leave the bar when Nicole approached.

"There you are, Ethan. What are you trying to do, make Wes even more nervous?" She smacked her husband on the arm. "You really are a mess, you know."

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead before she could protest. "I love you too."

Nicole grinned, but tried to act angry. "I wanted to introduce you to Lady Eleanor. She's a dancer too, she's about to audition for the Tammins Ballet."

"I thought Lady Alyex was the dancer?" Andrew asked.

"Alyex dances? I thought she was in medical school?" Wesley said.

Nicole rolled her eyes. "They both are, idiots. Now stop distracting your poor brother and come with me," she dragged Ethan off, and Andrew shrugged and went to go find his own wife.

"Good luck, Wes." He called over his shoulder.

Before he could get too nervous, Wesley found himself walking up to Lady Iris. She was standing by herself in a corner of the room, drumming her fingers against the flute of champagne she was holding. When she saw him coming towards her, her lips parted, and then she quickly looked around her for a distraction.

"Good evening, Lady Iris," he began.

Iris curtseyed, and hooked her hair behind her ears. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Wesley," she said, her face breaking out into a smile. She rolled her lips together, and her fingers tightened their grip on her glass.

"My brothers are much cooler, to be honest," Wesley said, shrugging. "So, what brings you to the palace?"

Iris smoothed her hair again. "Um, besides you? I mean…" she blushed, in an adorable way. "Um, actually, I wanted to do some good after so much bad happened, and I've been away for a while, but I grew up here, and yeah, I don't know."

"Oh, so not just for me?" Wesley laughed loudly at his joke, causing several heads to turn in their direction, but Iris didn't seem to think it was that funny.

"Uh, well I entered Prince Ethan's Selection too…" Iris cringed, and then shook her head. "I mean, that sounds like I just entered for the actual Selection, I promise I didn't…" she trailed off, nibbling on her lip, and waited for him to say something.

"Hey, no harm done. Though to be honest, you would have been a lot better than Mackenzie Parker, she came from Angeles too."

Iris smiled shyly. "I'd like to think so. I'm glad I was Selected for you instead." Her color flushed deeper, and she looked down at her black pumps. "I mean, you're more my age and everything."

"So, you wanna go on a date sometimes?" Wesley blurted out. Iris looked up, her eyes wide.

"Um, sure!" She cleared her throat. "I would love that. Of course, I'm in your Selection, so it's kind of expected."

Wesley chucked. "Listen, I make the rules. I can do whatever I want. What do you want to do?"

It wasn't exactly true, he didn't make the rules, but right now, in his rather compromised mind, he did.

Iris shrugged. "I don't really know. Whatever you want to do, I guess." She seemed frustrated, almost like she couldn't wait for him to leave.

"Okay, well what are you into? You're from Angeles, right? Do you like the beach or the city?"

At this, Iris answered immediately, and there was no uncertainty behind her words. "The city, definitely. I mean, the beach is cool and all, but I love looking at architecture and everything. That's why I decided to study it, specifically Urban Planning."

"Oh hey, that's really cool. So you must, like, be really smart then, huh?" Wesley leaned against the wall.

"Um, I guess so?" Iris wrinkled her brow. "I don't know, I just love the beauty in everyday things."

"We should walk around the city sometime, that is, if they let me out of here," Wesley rolled his eyes for emphasis.

Iris beamed. "Hey I thought you made the rules," she joked hesitantly.

Wesley laughed again, once again attracting plenty of attention, which seemed to make Iris uncomfortable.

"Not all of them, Lady Iris."

"Wesley!"

The two turned around, to see Gracie heading over to them. Well, Gracie and Damian, they both had their arms around each other, which seemed to Wesley a potential for someone falling but who was he to judge?

"Hey, you guys. And not to be rude or anything, I'm glad you're here dude, but Ben and Colin told me Damien wasn't invited?" Wesley asked, looking confused.

Damian smirked. "I wasn't, but Gracie threatened to scream until we let him in and no one needs to hear something that high pitched again..."

Gracie gasped, and then smacked her boyfriend on the head. "Babe!" she exclaimed.

Wesley glanced over at Iris, and saw she was grinning, practically bouncing on her toes.

"Oh, guys, this is Lady Iris. She's from Angeles, she's in college studying architecture."

Gracie extended her free hand that wasn't around Damian's waist. "Nice to meet you, Lady Iris. I'm Gracie Luna, and this is my boyfriend Damian Chapman. He's the Head of Security for the Prime Minister, and I'm one of Princess Nicole's ladies."

Iris shook both of their hands. "It's an honor to meet you guys. I know who you are."

"Aw, that's so sweet! We're not in the tabloids like this one here," Gracie nudged Wesley.

"I was at the airport when Prince Ethan's Selection started, and I met you there, you probably don't remember of course. I even have a picture with you!"

Was it just him, or did Iris seem more excited to meet Gracie than him? He made a mental note to find out more about this girl, but there were still nine others he had to talk to before his mom skinned him alive.

He excused himself, leaving Gracie to bond with Iris, and wondered around the room, trying to find one of the girls he hadn't talked to yet, trying to avoid having anything else to drink. This had gone well, he decided. Most it was a blur, and he couldn't remember half of the things he had said to any of them, but it had probably gone well.

Christine intercepted him when he gave in and was headed back to the bar, where his brothers had met up again.

"Ah, I think you've had enough. Besides, you only have a little bit of time left to talk to the girls." His sister-in-law said, looking every bit the queen in her gold-embossed powder blue gown. She took away the champagne he was about to drink and set it out of his reach.

Wesley groaned, and his face met the countertop of the bar. "Well, I would, except I don't know any of the others," Wesley complained into the marble.

He heard Christine sigh. "Okay, well I saw you already talked to Lady Eleanor, but there's another girl who was the runner-up in her province, Lady Veronica, from St. George. You could welcome her."

"Ew, gross. Seccessionist. I think I'll just stay here." Wesley mumbled.

Christine pulled him up from the bar by his collar. "Wesley, I swear, when you're drunk, you turn into Aidan, and he's literally four years old."

"I'm not drunk!" Wesley protested. Christine ignored him, and pointed Lady Veronica.

She was a tall girl with golden blonde hair and a cute smattering of freckles, perusing the appetizer table with a plate already piled with snacks in one hand. In the other, she held what could only be described as a wad of the skirt of her evening gown, bunched up around her knees.

Christine gave him the I'm-the-queen-so-you-better-obey-me-look that she often used on her kids, so Wesley had no choice but to get up and walk towards Lady Veronica.

Upon closer inspection, her dress was daring two-piece dress, with a white top baring an inch of her midriff and a champagne skirt covered with embroidery. She was tottering around precariously in a pair of strappy white platform heels and didn't notice his approach.

"Hey," he began loudly, "I don't think we've met yet!" He picked up one of the bacon wrapped things on her plate and stuffed it in her mouth.

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Are you Prince Wesley?"

He shrugged, "That's me. Why? Were you expecting someone else?"

She narrowed her lips into a thin line. "Yeah, someone who doesn't eat my food. And is maybe a little less drunk?"

Wesley laughed. "Believe me, Lady Veronica, I'm not drunk."  
She pulled herself up to her full height, which was nearly as tall as him in her shoes. "No, no, no. No Lady. No Veronica. It's just Vera, got it?" She jabbed a finger practically in his face to prove her point.

Wesley only nodded, fearing for his life all of the sudden. Vera looked placated, and stepped back. "Good. Do you want me to curtsey or something? I would have already done it, because one of the women you're related to I guess said we had to, but I can barely walk in this stupid things and I'd probably drop my food and fall into it, and we wouldn't want that. So just imagine me curtseying."

"And the skirt? I'm guess you can't walk in that either," he nodded to the gathering of fabric she held tucked under one arm and clutched in her hand.

"Ugh, yes, it's impossible! I practically died coming down those stairs," Vera picked up a tiny cracker with some sort of spread on it and popped it in her mouth. "This is going to take some getting used to, wearing this stuff all the time," she mumbled around a mouthful of crackers.

"So, I hear you're the runner-up from St. George when the first girl declined. What made you want to come here?"

Vera picked up another cracker. "Well it wasn't your sparkling party small talk," she muttered. "I just needed the money for my family. I lost my parents in the war, and I'm a Five, and no one really is throwing parties that need musicians in St. George right now."

"I'm sorry about your parents," Wesley offered.

Vera shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't be. They died when Mitch Levi tried to start a revolution. Once it was over, I thought you guys did plenty to change things, so I never agreed with the secession."

"I think every one of the rebels deserve to die, betraying the country like that," a new voice cut in from behind them.

Wesley cursed out of a startled reflex, stumbling backwards, making Vera burst out laughing. The newcomer was opposite in every way of Vera, short and curvy, with light brown skin and wildly curly black hair worn up. The only thing they shared was the abundance of freckles. She was wearing a strapless peach colored dress, but in the front part of the skirt it ended well above her knees, though the back was normal. When he saw the nose ring, he remembered her from the ratings, though not her name.

Luckily, Vera saved him. "Hi, Callista," she said. "I guess you didn't support the secession either."

Callista glared at her for a second. "No, I didn't. What's your name again?"

"Vera," she said.

"Actually her name's Veronica, but she—ow!" Wesley yelped as Vera cut him off with an elbow in the ribs.

"But no one calls me that," she finished. "Hey, how did you get away with a dress that short? I practically begged my maids to not make me wear this, but they wouldn't hear of it."

Callista silently judged her, and then replied. "I have my ways."

"Hey, Lady Callista, right? I don't think we've met. I'm Wesley." Wesley interrupted.

Callista looked at him. "Do we shake hands or curtsey?"

"Curtsey, probably." Wesley said, before sweeping one leg behind him, and bending at the waist in a terrible mockery of one. Vera started laughing again, but was silenced by another glare from Callista. She obviously didn't appreciate the joke.

"Anyway, I heard you guys talking about the secession. I was just wondering what your brother was planning to do to punish all those in the provinces who rebelled against the crown." Callista said seriously.

"Uh…" Wesley wiped his hands on his pants, but he couldn't think of another joke to lighten the mood. Vera shuffled her feet awkwardly next to him. "I don't think that's the point. I mean, they're still our countrymen, even if some of them did decide to rebel. Actually, the whole point of going to war was to save the country as a whole."

Callista didn't look convinced, and Wesley felt the memories lurking in the back of his mind, but instead of fear, he felt anger. Heat flashed through him, and he unbuttoned his jacket as he spoke.

"That's one of the reasons I went north to fight, and to be honest, I wouldn't support punishing anyone who supported the secession. The war was hell enough, and punishing them would only make it worse, and no one else deserves to die, on either side. We all fought for something we believed in, and now we're all Illeans again. We fought for peace, not more war, and punishing them will make all we fought for nothing. It's time to stop hurting people. I don't want to see anyone else die."

As he finished, he realized that his voice had grown to a yell. Now, not only was Callista and Vera staring at him, but most of the room was.

Embarrassed, he pulled off his jacket, and threw it over one shoulder, raking his hand through his hair. He heard a slow clap, and turned around, seeing a tall blonde in a turquoise gown he hadn't talked to yet giving him a one-woman applause. She nodded in his direction, as a few others closest to him joined in.

Everything slowly returned to normal and he turned back to the two girls. Vera was grinning at him, still clapping, though Callista had narrowed her eyes and was sneering defiantly. That was obviously not the answer she wanted.

"Whatever. I saw things that no one deserves to see in Carolina when Mitch's forces took the city. You have no idea." She tensed, like she was about to leave, but had one last word.

"And it gives me the creeps that that rebel poster girl is here," she spat. "I bet she'd kill you if she got the chance, so be careful. It would be a shame if your perfect world was shattered and you saw people as they really are—cruel, horrible animals." Callista's eyes flickered to the blonde girl who had started the applause for him, and combined with her words, he recognized her as Lady Georgia, from Yukon. The same pretty face that had been stamped all over rebel propaganda.

Callista left, and Vera looked up at him and offered a shrug.

"Seeing war like that does terrible things to people," she said. "We have no idea what she saw."

Since he'd started talking to her, this was the first time Vera was serious, and he wondered what she had seen. It didn't last long.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take these shoes off and find a place to hide them before I break my ankles or something."

Once again, he was left by himself.

As he waited for someone to come tell him to go talk to one of the few girls left or ask him if he was okay, he watched Lady Georgia. He had forgotten about the possibility of having the face of the rebellion here in the palace. Applauding his speech about unification was odd, though. Unlike some of the other girls, she seemed perfectly at ease at the reception, gliding around in stilettos and eye-catching turquoise evening gown, with thin straps over the shoulders, and sheer paneling around her ribcage and ankles. He didn't know much about fashion, but he could tell that this girl did.

She was watching him, though, sipping from a flute of champagne like she had done it a thousand times. She wasn't smiling, and that seemed like the natural pose for her face, unlike the cheesy grins she wore in the propaganda posters he had seen that had dominated the north, saying things like "You Are Needed Now!" and "Fight For Our Freedom!". She was taller than most of the girls, with a slightly lanky build, long arms and legs, and a trim figure. She had arched eyebrows that somehow always seemed to be judging him. She didn't break off eye contact, only gave her wild dark golden-blonde curls a haughty toss.

Perhaps thinking about his values had cleared his head, because he remembered she was a Three, from Yukon, coming from a wealthy family, her mother being the daughter of the governor before all the craziness began and Yukon had been rebel territory ever since he was fifteen. Like Vera said, she probably had seen things.

Before he could convince himself not to or think too long about Callista's parting words, he was walking up to her, knowing he had to meet her eventually.

Georgia stood like a statue, staring him down as he approached, a dangerous woman who for all Wesley knew, had a gun down her cleavage or something. She was one of the few girls who had chosen to wear gloves, hers were a black and elbow length. She could have a knife. There were plenty of guards making themselves scarce around the perimeter of the dining room, but you just never knew. To make things worse, she was from Yukon, and the last girl to come from there for Ethan Lady Ebony Winters, hadn't worked out that well.

When he was close enough, she executed a graceful curtsey, tipping her chin down, before meeting his eyes with her deep brown ones in a way he found unsettling. She waited for him to speak first.

"Good evening, Lady Georgia," it was his standard greeting-so far, so good.

"Prince Wesley," she acknowledged, "I was impressed by your speech."

She was a woman of few words, and he could tell she chose them carefully.

He shrugged lamely. "I didn't know half of what I was saying."

"I know you were there, and I know that everything you said, you meant." Georgia's eyebrow twitched up slightly.

Wesley shuffled his feet nervously. "So, um, the applause, is that because you agreed or you just have a thing for guys who make impassioned political speeches when they are slightly intoxicated?"

Georgia flagged down a footman and exchanged her champagne for another one and handed him one too before responding.

"First off," she began. "I think you're more than slightly intoxicated. And yes, I do have a thing for guys making impassioned political speeches."

Wesley gulped down half his drink, wishing it was a little stronger for this conversation.

"You and everyone else in this room probably think I'm a traitor to the crown," Georgia continued. "I heard some of what Callista said, and I don't blame her. All I know is I did what I had to."

Wesley didn't know what to say, he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Wesley!" It was Colin, jogging in a very un-Prime-Minister way over to them. "I was waiting for you to talk to her," he said, joining them, looking like the older equivalent of his son Gideon because he looked so excited. Georgia took a step back, and her cold expression had turned to what might have been a smile.

"What do you mean?" Wesley asked.

Colin scoffed. "You idiot, may I present, Lady Georgia Maison Sorrel? You and everyone else know her as the socialite of the rebellion up north, and the symbol of secession, but in reality, she infiltrated their ranks and fed our intelligence officers much of the critical information we needed to win the war," he grinned, and waggled his eyebrows at Wesley like an excited little kid.

Wesley turned to Georgia and gaped at her, now in a new light. Georgia curtsied again, this time to Colin.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Prime Minister. I fear you may exaggerate my actions a bit." They shook hands.

Colin laughed, and Wesley had a feeling Adele wasn't going to be very happy with her husband later, even though Wesley knew Colin was just a sucker for his country, not the pretty blonde who had helped save it.

"Long story short, she's on our side," Colin explained. "And she helped save Illea."

"Well, I'm not very popular back home right now, once that information got out. I figured it was a good time to get away." Georgia seemed to be losing her cool a bit, and she even cracked a sort-of-smile.

He wanted to stay longer, now that he knew Georgia was actually really frickin cool but unfortunately, that was not to be. He was pulled away from one of the most interesting conversations he'd had all night by his mother, who's hands were like a vice grip that made him panic for a second.

"Wesley, it's almost eight, and you have barely made any progress," Queen Francesca scolded.

Wesley stifled a groan. "Mom, I'm trying, I'm swear! There's so many girls, and you hardly gave me any time!"

"Well I hope you've been thinking about who you are going to eliminate. How many do you have left to speak with?"

He did a count as a surveyed the room. "Five,"

"You have less then ten minutes. Make it quick."

She steered him over to two girl from Bonita and Paloma, nice girls from the south who didn't have anything to do with the war, but obviously weren't comfortable with their new life at the palace.

After he briefly introduced himself and talked to them for a bit, he made a quick pit stop at the bar for a shot of vodka before he spoke with the girl he had been dreading all night.

Fallon Berlin was the girl who Andrew had said that her father had bribed him to get Fallon into the Selection. He, along with the rest of the Berlin family-the wealthiest family in Illea—had been extremely influential in supporting Mitch Levi's rebellion with weapons and backing. They had openly supported Atlin's secession and the secession of the entire north, and been in a position of immense power until the close of the war.

He had been briefed about her background, and knew that because of her family name and her career as a model, she had a fanbase all around Illea, but her support was concentrated in the northern, secessionist provinces.

The thing was, Fallon didn't look like was the type of girl to back rebels or was the heir to a crime ring that had explicit amounts of most-likely-illegally gained money. She was pretty, but he did think all girls were pretty. With long dark brown hair streaked with blondish highlights that had been emphasized sometime during her application photograph and tonight, large eyes and long lashes, and lightly tanned skin, she wore her hair in loose curls with a center part, dressed in a delicate shimmering cream colored tulle gown. Like Georgia, she also wore elbow length gloves, though hers were cream satin. The hem of her dress was short enough to show off her heels, and she wore a large statement necklace. All evening, she had been floating around the room, not really deigning to talk to anyone but seeming perfectly at ease.

Which was why he was confused when she held her arms around her body protectively and her eyes got very large and fearful when he approached her.

"Lady Fallon?" he began, not sure of what else to say. The poor girl even had tears sparkling in her eyes. She blinked at him, before she offered a less-then-stellar curtsey.

"Are you aware that you're not wearing a tie or jacket for an occasion such as this, or are you actually trying to make me hate you?"

He was so surprised that he just stared at the dark-haired girl for good minute, and she just stared back at him.

He glanced down at his clothes, sure that he had put them on whenever he had changed for dinner. But Fallon was right. His tie was still crumpled in his pocket, though now he had removed his jacket that he'd somehow lost too. His dress shirt was all wrinkled and untucked, even one of his shoes was untied.

"Oops," he muttered. Fallon didn't say anything, only bit her lip a little, her eyes wide, still as a statue.

She finally moved. "Sorry... I forgot you were a prince. I just insulted a prince. I'm so sorry," her voice cracked a little at the end, and the lines of her body were rigid.

"Hey, no worries," he said casually.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" Even though he wasn't standing very close to her, he could hear her breathing like she'd just ran down the Main Hall. Or that she was about to cry.

"Lady Fallon, it's fine, you're right, I'm a mess." He smiled, trying to reassure her. He stepped closer, and she flinched slightly.

They were quiet for a moment, but her breathing returned to normal.

"I'm so sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "I don't know why I said that, it's probably nerves." She met his eyes for a second, and then looked down.

"It's totally fine," Wesley laughed it off. "I'm sorry, I don't really know how my—" he motioned at his sloppy clothes, "-fashion catastrophe happened. You look pale, are you okay?"

It was weird that for the first time all night, he was the one asking the question.

Fallon took a deep breath, and lifted her head high, tossing her hair back. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm just not used to speaking to…royalty."

Wesley shrugged. "Ah, who is? I almost pee myself whenever any of the foreign royalty visit."

"But you _are_ royalty," Fallon corrected, her voice void of emotion.

"Sometimes I forget. Can I get you a drink or something?"

"No, I'm alright, thank you."

"Oh."

The silence fell between them again.

"So, I don't have much time before dinner, so I want to ask if you'd like to, I don't know, go on a date with me tomorrow or something? I'll make sure it's okay with whatever lessons Christine and Nicole have for you guys. Is there a good time for you?"

Fallon pursed her lips, and waited a moment before she replied. "No, I don't think so,"

It wasn't the response he was hoping for, especially because Andrew had told him it would be a good idea to placate her supporters as soon as possible.

"Oh. Are you busy, or…?"

Fallon shook her head quickly. "No…um, I just…I can't be seen with someone who walks around with shoes untied to a state dinner."

Wesley almost laughed, before he realized she was perfectly serious.

"Okay, well some other time then…I guess?" Fallon didn't say anything, just stared at him with her big doe eyes. "Enjoy the rest of the night!" he blurted out, before shooting her some finger guns and all but running away.

Two more girls, he could do this.

He was halfway back to the safety of the bar when he decided he probably should tie his shoes before he tripped and died. After several failed attempts and curses, a pair of shiny red high heels complete with big bows on the toes appeared in his vision.

He dropped the hopelessly knotted laces, and slowly stood up. It appeared one of the girls he hadn't spoken to had found him. She was petite, with a headful of honey blonde curls, and a heart-shaped face, reminding him of Gracie. Along with her red shoes, she was wearing an off-the-shoulder matching red dress with a full skirt, coordinating with her red lipstick and the bow in her hair.

"Hi," he began. He remembered she was one of the youngest girls, at eighteen, even though she looked younger. She looked so nice he was positive this interview would go better than the last one, since he still wasn't sure if Fallon had passively aggressively insulted him or not.

"Lady Darcy, right? I'm sorry you had to wait to the end, but you know what they say, the best for last," he said with a laugh.

Darcy raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. Then she held out a piece of paper that had been clutched in her hand, before giving a half-hearted curtsey.

He unfolded the paper, only to have several additional sheets flutter to the ground. This caused Darcy to give an impatient humph.

It was a list, titled very officially as "Grievances". As he started reading it, Darcy quoted it aloud, practically word-for-word.

"First off, the castes are scrupulously unfair, there's no reason that lower castes should be punished because of what their parents did. And actually, how did anyone come up with them in the first place? They punish people all over Illea."

"Um…"

"Second, your hair is stupid, and might I add it looks even worse than usual tonight, along with the rest of your appearance. Third, you should have let the north secede. It was in their power and right to do so. Fourth, there's-"

"Wait, _what_?" Wesley finally cut her off, which made her glare at him. "I have no idea what's going on right now."

"That's probably because you showed up to this meeting hopelessly drunk, and you've been making a fool of yourself all night," Darcy spat, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Look at you, you're a mess."

"Thank you," Wesley said with all sarcasm. "Actually, I've already been informed of that."

He pulled the tie from his pocket and jerked it over his head, glaring right back at her. His tie-tying skills were somewhat compromised, especially not looking, but he managed to at least tie some sort of knot.

Darcy let out a scoffing laugh, and Wesley gritted his teeth, anger flashing through him.

"It was nice to meet you, Lady Darcy," he handed her back the list, but she didn't take it, so he just dropped it with the others. "Unfortunately, I feel a little too insulted to continue this conversation, so…enjoy your damn dinner."

Before he could say something he would really regret, he walked away, counting to ten, trying to put as much space between Darcy and him as possible. He checked his watch, finding he only had two minutes to speak to the last girl, Lady Reese Novell.

He found the caramel-haired personal trainer looking pretty nervous, with good reason, as she was the last one to call. He was rather intimidated by her muscled arms, accentuated by the lace top of her dress, flaring out to a golden yellow skirt part.

"Good evening, Lady Reese. I'm sorry you had to be last," he said.

She smiled widely, and adorable dimples appeared. He couldn't remember how old she was, but he figured she had to be one of the older girls by the maturity of her face and the depth of her blue-gray eyes.

"It's okay. There had to be one after all!" she said. "And you don't have to call me Lady, unless it's like a law or something. Reese is fine."

Before they could continue their conversation, the butler was announcing dinner, and the footmen were beginning to seat the ladies and the rest of his family.

"Crap. Okay, well I hope we can continue this conversation soon,"

Reese smiled again, and nodded. "Are you asking me on a date?" she said, doing her best to suppress excitement.

He had no idea how many girls he had invited on the first date of the Selection tonight, but at that point, he really didn't care as they sat up a time the next day.

He was still alive, and maybe this was going to be okay.

…


	8. The Way It Used To Be

**Hey guys! Sorry this took forever, I promise I was really busy with midterms and all of the writing I managed to do wasn't what I wanted, so much deleting and rewriting later, I'm finally back! In my defense the last two were hella long, and this was not as fun to write as the interviews…**

 **Review shout outs to** Nameless, mnbvcxz-xx, delovlies, canifindtheone, Miss Kaydence **and assorted guests:** Bree, Guest 12 **! Special shout out to** bibliophile609 ( **x2)** **the former** fivesauce 'n' YAbooks **for generally being awesome, rereading Selected Twins for me, and helping me with ideas (most of which didn't make it into this chapter, sorry love!)**

 **There is stuff from Selected Twins mentioned in this chapter, hopefully I explained it enough! Also important clarification for some that asked, Joseph is Wesley's valet which is basically like his manservant/ladies-maid-but-not-for-a-lady-idk** , **not his driver, which I see can be confusing if you haven't seen Downton Abbey, which is where I base all my servant related stuff from.**

 **(** Guest12 **—So sorry I can't PM you, asking for clarification on Vera, what are her loyalties, to the rebels or monarchy? Which side did she fight for? Which side held her captive? Any extra information would be appreciated! Love her!)**

…

It hadn't been the best of days for Lissa, and now she just wanted it to be over. Unfortunately, that wasn't happening, as for now, she was still a governess, and she had duties.

At the moment, though the reception for the Selected was over, Evie and Sophie were fiends, keyed up from all the excitement despite it being hours after their bedtime. Christine had given the nannies the night off, so Lissa's duty had been extended until the queen could come and tuck her daughters into bed. It wasn't that she minded, she adored the girls, and this was her job after all—and after what happened, she was lucky to still have it.

"I think Lady Lillian is the beautifulist!" Evie declared to her sister, giggling as she jumped onto her bed. The little princess bounced onto her knees, and then flopped backwards, her blonde curls fanning out around her.

"Evie, honey, you know you're not supposed to jump on your bed," Lissa said as she helped Sophie out of her party dress and into her pajamas. Sophie bolted out of her reach, hyped on sugar from the raspberry cream layer cake that had been served for dessert.

"Yeah?" the brunette twin challenged, jumping up beside her sister, "Well I thought Lady Eleanor was the beautifulist!"

Lissa sighed as the two girls argued over their favorite Selected, and set to work putting away their dresses from earlier to keep herself busy. They were absolutely enamored with the whole idea, and even though they were princesses themselves, they were obsessed with princesses. She knew she should tell them to stop jumping on the bed, but for the moment she didn't care.

The royal nursery had become a sanctuary in the few weeks she had been here, away from the past and the present, where thoughts of Wesley would stay away until she was away. Now, as the night wore away, with the lamps illuminating a warm golden glow and the thought of getting back to her room and taking off her heels and going to bed, it was almost perfect.

But today had been tough, and not even the cozy comfort was helping tonight. Not only had she been forced to watch the arrival of the ladies of the Selection, which had been bad enough, but then she'd witnessed Wesley meeting them and enjoying it, at least it had looked that way from where she had been sitting.

After that, she'd watched his eyes fill with terror as the memories came crashing back, and been mistaken as a dead companion as he lost his grip on reality. All she wanted to do was help, but he wouldn't even talk to her. The only thing he could think to ask her was if she had gone running back to her life as a teenage burlesque dancer. Having nearly lost her job over her attempt to save him from humiliation hadn't exactly been the icing on the cake either, nor had sitting through the rest of the reception trying to be carry out her governess duties as happily as possible.

She couldn't help but be angry, even several hours later. All these years, she had hoped he had at least thought better of her. It didn't help that he had accused of her ruining their relationship by not keeping in contact, because she _had._ They had corresponded up until they met up in Tammins when he had been stationed there after the rebels had attacked the palace during the Convicting, and everything seemed normal. Then of course the royal family had been taken hostage, and everything went crazy. When things had got semi-normal after the revolution failed and the monarchy reinstated, she had sent letter after letter, but had never had received a response. After about a year, she had mostly given up, except on their shared birthday and at Christmas, and every now and then.

When it came down to it, it was not her fault that their relationship had ended.

After all, she told herself, it was just stupid puppy love. They had barely been sixteen when they declared their love.

Automatically, she reached for her necklace, but of course it wasn't there anymore. She had let him go, and she hoped he would find love with one of his Selected.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Lissa knew she couldn't stay anymore, not after what Queen Francesca had said, and how Wesley had treated her. She would rather leave now then be fired and sent away in disgrace. She never should have come back in the first place, to try to reclaim her heart. Leaving a second time was going to hurt just as bad.

The little girls pulled her back to the reality of leaving.

"Maybe Miss Lissa was the beautifulist tonight," Sophie said, giggling. They had tired of jumping on one of their beds, and were now peering at her over the baseboard, their stuffed animals sprawled all over the vicinity from their jumping.

"You should say 'most beautiful', Soph, since you are a princess," Lissa corrected.

Finding themselves discovered, the girls ducked down behind the baseboard so she couldn't see them, dissolving into giggles, almost making her change her mind. It would be hard to leave these girls, even though she had only been their governess for three weeks, she loved them so much.

Unexpectedly, Lissa blinked back the tears that filled her eyes. It was going to be harder than she thought to do this. But in three short weeks, her whole life had moved here, and staying was only making everything she had worked for fall apart.

She was saved from making it even harder when Christine finally arrived, after putting Aidan to bed, and swapping her evening gown for a very sans-queen outfit of gym shorts and a t-shirt, still with her perfect hair and makeup from the reception.

"Hey Lissa, sorry about that, I should have realized it would have taken longer, I'm sorry you had to stay late," Christine said, as Evie and Sophie attacked her.

Lissa forced a smile, "No problem, I don't mind."

"If it makes it any better, you did an excellent job tonight. I don't think I could have made them behave better. It sure is interesting having kids around for a Selection,"

Lissa nodded, "Yeah, everything seems different when you aren't actually in it, too."

Christine grinned, "Tell me about it. By the way, I know we haven't announced it yet, but next week we're holding a Victory Ball. We haven't finished working out the specifics yet, but obviously these girls," she stopped to ruffle their hair, "-won't be staying up half the night for the whole thing, though you're welcome to even after they go to bed." Christine emphasized the last part, sending the little princesses into more giggles as they dove to their beds.

Lissa tried to work up the courage to give her resignation then, but something stopped her. When she didn't say anything, Christine paused.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Another forced smile and vigorous nod, "Yeah, of course! That sounds amazing! I'll have to ask Gracie to help me find something to wear."

The queen didn't buy it, and her face softened. "Look, I know technically I'm your employer, but listen, I know being back here with Wesley can't be easy for you,"

"Wait, you knew?"

"Lissa, almost everyone knew," Christine said, smirking. "You guys were the most obvious lovesick puppies I have ever seen."

"But it's all so different now. We were just kids, I don't think we had any idea how we felt, it was all so easy back then," She admitted, not realizing what she was saying before she just blurted it out.

Christine put a hand on Lissa's shoulder. "It doesn't have to be easy to be love. It doesn't have to be hard either. It just has to… _be_ love."

Lissa gave a polite smile. "It's just different, and I'm still getting used to it," she said.

They said their goodnights as Evie called her mom over, and Lissa grabbed her bag and slipped out of the nursery and into the hall. She rummaged through the pockets of the bag that contained all her governess things and located her phone, and checked it for messages. There were a few from home, and several from Gracie and one from Nicole asking her if she was okay that she had missed over the course of the evening. A new one popped up from Gracie as Lissa walked down the hall.

 _Hey, are you still on babysitting duty? Damo and I are about to leave_ , _come say goodbye! We're downstairs!_

As usual, it was filled with plenty of hearts and smiley faces. Lissa quickly fired off a reply that she was on her way.

Of course, that was not to be.

Joseph Sheppard, Wesley's valet and the most egotistical servant she had ever met, was coming out of Wesley's room, a scowl on his face.

He saw her immediately, and Lissa groaned inwardly. Though both of them were almost always busy, whenever he did get a chance to talk to her, he seized it and used it to try to sneak in as many pickup lines as possible. So far, she had turned down his offer for a date twice.

"Lissa!" He said in greeting, glancing down at her evening gown. "You look nice,"

"And you look angry," she replied, giving yet another forced smile, hoping to quickly be rid of him and say goodbye to Gracie so she could just go to bed.

Joseph rolled his eyes and jerked his head back towards the direction of Wesley's rooms. "Prince Wesley doesn't see the need for a valet. So even though I'm the head valet, I can't do my job. I swear, every time he sees me, he freaks out."

"He's probably just not used to having a servant, being a solider and all for like five years," Lissa said, shifting her bag to her other arm impatiently.

Joseph shrugged, "Nah, he can't stoop to having a valet, he's got to do everything himself, like a little kid. He's just an egotistical little bastard,"

Lissa's eyes widened, and Joseph laughed at her reaction. "Okay, that last part was probably uncalled for, but only because he's a prince."

Her hand automatically went to her necklace, but once again she found it gone. That would take some getting used to. "Actually, I don't think Wesley is egotistical at all. He's been through a lot—just give him some time to get used to being a prince again,"

Joseph scoffed jokingly, and then had the audacity to wink at her. "Right, sorry. I forget you used to know him, before they kicked you out. What were you, like thirteen?"

Lissa blinked. "Fifteen, actually. Look, Joseph, Gracie's waiting on me and I've had a really long day-"

He leaned against the wall, looming over her in an attempt to be romantic. "Hanging out with the royalty too, are we?" He chuckled.

"Um, Gracie and Damian are not royalty, and even if they were, they're still my friends," Lissa tossed her hair behind her shoulders. "So, is there something you want?"

Smoothly, Joseph leaned in a bit closer. "Actually, yeah. I was wondering if you wanna go get drinks or something? I know this great place downtown."

It was clear he wasn't going to let her go easily. She wrinkled her nose and faked another cheesy smile. "Like I said, it's been a long day and I'm really tired, so can we raincheck?"

He grinned. "Yeah, it's a date!"

She smiled, but it was more of a grimace, "Great. Okay. Great. Well… I'll let you know when I have some time, but yeah. See you later?"

"Night," he called as she made a hasty retreat down the hall, glad she had an excuse to not walk to the fourth floor with him.

Unlike the quiet, kid filled third floor, the second floor was buzzing. Many of the ladies had their doors open and she could hear them laughing and talking as they ran around to each other's rooms or gathering in the hallway sitting area, some of them still in their evening finery and some of them in pajamas.

She couldn't help but smile, remembering her own days as a Selected. Back then, they had all been competing for Ethan, but that was only part of it. It was sort of like the greatest thing that could happen to a girl, like a vacation that paid you to be there, with fancy gowns, amazing food, being on TV, and having anything you could want with all your new best friends.

The first floor was now only occupied by an army of servants cleaning up and preparing for the next day. Lissa waved to Joanna as she supervised the rearranging of the dining room, and headed towards her friends.

Aside from the rooms they had used for the reception, the rest of the first floor was quiet, only occupied by the guards standing silently outside. Two of those said new best friends were waiting for her by the doors.

"Hey, sorry!" Lissa said as she ran up to Nicole and Gracie. "I got ambushed,"

"It's okay, I'll be back tomorrow," Gracie said, hugging her. "Colin's going to Waverly for a few days, so Damian has to go with him, and I don't want to be by myself in the apartment. He was still technically on duty, so he already left with them."

Nicole giggled. "Gracie, you have three dogs and I don't even know how many other pets. You won't be alone!"

Gracie gasped in mock annoyance. "Okay, well technically I am your Lady in Waiting and also now a Selection coordinator, so shouldn't I be here?"

"Ugh, fine, you can stay," Nicole teased.

Gracie playfully rolled her eyes, and turned to Lissa. "Evie and Sophie did the ambushing, I take it?"

"Actually no, one of my coworkers. It's okay, Joanna told me I'm just new fodder for his flirting."

Gracie elbowed her. "So where is he taking you? Somewhere nice, I hope. Damian accidently took me to a really insane nightclub on our first date because he thought it was a nice restaurant."

Lissa shook her head. "I turned him down."

Both of her friends gave her _a look_ , and Lissa instinctively reached for her necklace.

"Lissa," Nicole began, "I'm so sorry, I should have warned you about the Selection when we hired you,"

"Did you at least talk to him?" Gracie asked.

"I tried…" Lissa looked at the floor, only remembering the shame as he asked her about what she had been doing since they last saw each other. "It doesn't matter anyway, I'm not staying

The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and _the look_ turned into something else altogether.

"What? No! You just got here!" Gracie hugged her again, squeezing her tighter as if that would keep Lissa from leaving. "You can't leave!"

"I've already made up my mind," Lissa shrugged, blinking back unbidden tears.

"Is it Wesley? Because I can talk to him if he was a jerk to you, I am his sister-in-law," Nicole said protectively.

"No, it's okay, it…" Lissa couldn't even come up with an excuse, because the tears were really coming now. "I just…I should never have come back, I don't know what I was thinking. It's just such a mess…"

She wanted to tell them that she still loved him and he didn't love her, but somehow, seeing her two best friends in front of her and knowing that both were in serious relationships with the men they had met during Ethan's Selection, while hers was in a puddle of nothing, she couldn't.

Christine had told her it didn't have to be hard or easy, it just had to be love, but Lissa wasn't so sure. Maybe some mountains were just too hard to climb.

"You don't need him," Nicole said, also hugging her. "If you meant what you said about being kids back then, then don't let him get to you. You can move on from this."

Gracie gave a vigorous nod. "You're going to be amazing whatever you do, with or without Wesley Shreave."

"Thanks guys," Lissa said, and decided she was getting really good at the fake smiles.

They were right, of course. And it was probably her fault, getting so angry and giving him back the necklace like that. It had all seemed possible there for a moment, with her helping him out into the hallway and Wesley staring at her and talking to her—until he had to ask that question that made her want to crawl out of her skin.

He didn't care about her. Maybe it was time to let Wesley go.

She said goodbye to Gracie and Nicole, feigning exhaustion and having to get up early the next morning. In reality, she just wanted to be alone for a bit before going back to her room. The rest of the staff ignored her as walked down the whole Main Hall and stepped out into the gardens. They were mostly dark by this time of the night, as it neared midnight. Aside from the inconspicuous presence of the guards by the glass doors who had only nodded to her, they were deserted.

Lissa slipped off her blazer and tucked it over her arm as she wandered down one of the closest paths. The evening was warm, though most of the stars were obscured by clouds. It was nice to be alone and outside, she hadn't been out of the palace in a while, unless it was with Evie and Sophie.

But as she turned the corner through a patch of immaculate rosebushes, she wished she had never come out here.

She sat down at the bench beneath a pale pink rosebush, remembering the last time she had been here.

It was the night of the masquerade celebrating Wesley's birthday during Ethan's Selection. Coincidently, it had also been hers, so they had had a joint celebration. He had asked her to follow him out to the gardens, and she had done so. Out on this bench, he had given her one of the roses, the same color as her gown. They had been seconds away from kissing when the rebels had set off their bomb that exploded in the Great Room and sent them on a fight for their lives. Wesley had tackled one of the rebels threatening them, and been shot in his side so she could run to the safety of the woods surrounding the grounds of the palace. It had been the night he had told her loved her.

Lissa jumped up, and walked as quickly as she could back the way she had come.

No, she wasn't doing this again. She _had_ to forget about him, because if she couldn't do that, she would have to leave and give up everything. Just put him out of your mind, do your job, and be the best you can be, she told herself as she hurried back inside.

But the memories would never fly too far away, would they?

Maybe it was just because Lady Eleanor was from Tammins, the same province as Lissa, or maybe it was the fact that she was still dressed up form earlier and downstairs by herself this late, but when Lissa saw her walking down the Main Hall towards the Great Room, of all places, she ducked out of side across the way in one of the side hallways of the offices of the West Wing.

"Wesley? What are you doing in here?" Came Eleanor's voice, peppy and cheerful and accompanied by a cute little giggle that made Lissa's stomach tighten into knots. She snuck closer so she could see better. One of the massive doors leading into the Great Room was ajar, though the lights were off, and there were too figures inside, both with their backs to her, their voices echoing in the cavernous ballroom.

"Hello?" came Wesley's voice, slurred and croaky and absolutely drunk. "Who're you?" he mumbled.

"Don't you remember me? We met earlier. I'm Eleanor. I'm from Tammins," the brunette explained. Her voice was slightly strained, and Lissa could tell she was nervous even though she faked her confidence.

"No you're …" Wesley managed, and Lissa could see he still held a glass. "Lissa's from Tammins…"

Eleanor laughed again, though this one sounded a bit more forced. "I'm in _your_ Selection, silly!" She reminded him. "I'm just trying to figure out what you're doing in there all by yourself!"

Lissa gritted her teeth. Eleanor seemed very nice and all, but she was starting to hate for no reason at all.

Back in the Great Room, Wesley looked at Eleanor, and then laughed in a very, well, drunken manner. "I don't know," he actually giggled. He took a step towards her, and ended up losing his balance and tumbling into Eleanor.

They both ended up on the floor, laughing hysterically, with the contents of Wesley's drink spilled everywhere.

"Well if you're going to knock me over like that, I think I at least deserve a date!" Eleanor teased between laughs as she sat up. Wesley was still sprawled on the floor, giggling in a way that reminded Lissa inexplicably of his nephew Aidan.

"Iris, Reese and Isabella all said they have dates with you tomorrow, and I was just wondering if you maybe have time for me too?" Eleanor simpered, standing up. Wesley finally stopped laughing, and Lissa ducked back out of sight in case he looked at the doors.

"What did you say your name was again?" He said in all seriousness.

Even though she couldn't see, it didn't seem like the response Eleanor was hoping for.

"Elean-" she began, but Wesley cut her off.

"Because you really look like Ebony and that girl scared the crap out of me…"

It was true, even though Lissa hadn't known the extra added member of Ethan's Selection and Elite long, Eleanor did look like Ebony.

"Oh," Eleanor said softly. "She was the girl they added from Yukon, wasn't she? I remember watching her on the Report."

"She died." Wesley said, his voice getting softer too. "She died…when they took us up to Yukon. She was with Mitch. Ethan didn't want to get out, because…." He trailed off, and it sounded like he was getting up. "Mitch killed her, I think. I wasn't there. He almost killed me too." Wesley's voice was dark now, nothing was funny anymore. Lissa's heart ached for him, and she couldn't tell it to stop. She hadn't been there then, and not much information about it had ever been published.

Maybe she could have helped Wesley.

"Oh, this fell out of your pocket." Eleanor's calm voice brought Lissa back. She risked a peek back into the Great Room, and could see her holding out the unmistakable pendent of a necklace.

 _Her_ necklace.

"I gave that to…" Wesley mumbled, now standing. "Never mind. You know what? I had it so I could give it to you!"

Eleanor giggled again, and she was so perfect it made Lissa physically sick. "How did you know I'd be here, hmm?" she purred sweetly.

Lissa didn't wait for Wesley's response of the rest of their conversation or anything else they might deign to do in that room. She spun around and retreated to the stairs as fast as she could, not caring if they heard her heels. _You don't need him, you don't need him, YOU DON'T NEED HIM_ she practically screamed at herself. She ran up the stairs to the fourth floor, and down the hall to her room, flinging her blazer and purse on the bed and slamming the door, slumping against it.

 _You. Don't. Need. Him._

But it didn't change the fact that she still wanted him.

She pulled the stupid hairpins out of her stupid bun and flung them across her stupid room, not knowing quite what she was doing. She went into the bathroom and dug through her makeup until she found some dark lipstick and swiped it across her lips before fixing the rest of her makeup and adding more than a governess should wear.

But only an on-duty governess.

Then she marched out of her room, head held high, and found herself standing before a room down the hall, knocking.

Joseph Sheppard answered the door, looking entirely different just from missing his jacket and tie, shirt untucked. He looked surprised to see her.

"Uh, hi?"

Lissa gave her sultriest smirk, since according to Wesley that was all she'd ever be good at.

"Is your offer of drinks downtown still good?"

…


	9. Then I Saw Your Face

**Hey everyone, broken record apologizing for late updates, I actually worked really hard on this one, but kept getting stuck! It's pretty long, though, and I think it turned out pretty good!**

 **Thank you for reviewing!** MissKaydence, Nameless, canifindtheone, mnbvcxz-xx, delovlies, bibliophile609, **and** RunawayGirl8125 **!**

 **Announcements-I'm super petty, so the first (upcoming) group date will be with the girls with the most reviewers (unless they already have had a date!). Also, if you have not sent in the rest of your form PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do! Also, there is a fancy-shmancy ball upcoming (more in this chapter) so if you're Pinterest trash like me and have boards for your characters, pin away! (Alternatively, you can message them to me or I can add you to the board!)**

 **This chapter begins with a flashback that began in chapter 4, if you're confused.**

…

Ears ringing.

It was easier to hear now, but still overshadowed by screaming in his head that refused to go away.

The silence was oppressive, almost as bad as having to be absolutely still and not make a single noise.

Outside their hiding place—one of the backrooms leading towards the hangers—the former civilian airport was a mess of noise, and he was glad he couldn't hear it all.

Drake looked at him, and there was a kind of fear that made him even scared in the eyes of his copilot. What made it worse was when he looked at Elvira, conscious now but bleeding form a gash in her forehead. She had always been unshakable, but trapped in the midst of a rebel attack on their airport, even she was scared.

 _What do we do?_ He mouthed at her. Elvira shook her head.

She didn't know.

He was still half-deaf from the explosion, but he could still feel the new ones, rattling the room, the walls, the ceiling, his very bones. There was the distant rumble, almost like thunder.

Except this thunder was blowing apart their air force and his soldiers were probably dying and he was never going to get out of here alive.

The explosions were getting closer, more frequent, louder.

And not for the first time in his life, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it out of here alive.

he

was

going

to

die…

The memories never ran far anymore.

Angeles. Palace. Bed. Safe.

The outside world was still and quiet, still dark, but gray instead of black. Wesley sat up, wincing and groaning at the pounding in his head. The smart thing to do would be to go back to sleep, but over the last few weeks, he had found that wasn't an option.

Maybe they were all right. Maybe he should tell someone about this like they had all told him too. But sooner or later, he had to forget, right?

He reached for his phone on the bedside table, only to find it dead, so he chucked it across the bed.

He climbed out of bed, only intensifying the pounding in his head, and headed to the bathroom to use the facilities and splash some water on his face. He got a bottle of water out of the mini fridge by his bed and left his bedroom in favor of his office. He was awake, might as well make the most of it.

Wesley switched on the lamp, and then flopped down on the chair, before spinning it around to start the coffee maker off to the side of the desk on the shelving. Of course, as his mom told him over and over, one of the servants could easily do it for him, but he insisted on doing it himself instead of making some poor maid wake up early. Sorta like having a valet to pick out his clothes and things, he still hadn't gotten used to palace life again.

As he waited for the coffee, he tried to neaten up the stacks of papers and folders and used mugs to find his laptop, planner, or at least his headphones or phone charger. Joseph had initially cleaned it up every day for him when he'd first started, but Wesley had threatened his life over it, he didn't even let the cleaning staff touch anything aside from whatever needed to be dusted or swept.

Wesley finally located his charger and plugged his phone in, and unearthed his laptop. He made a tower of dirty mugs and set them by the coffee maker, and filled up the last clean mug with the fresh coffee, all easily done with the aid of his swivel chair. Time to get to work.

He was hoping for some nice difficult budget consultations or other strenuous Council stuff, but despite the avalanche of papers, there was only Selection related stuff. He found the folder of all the forms and made a place for it in one of the filing cabinets, which he quickly began to fill up with whatever other Selection stuff he found littering his desk.

When there was space to situate his laptop, and his hidden planner reappeared long enough to show him he had a Council meeting at eleven, he fired it up to check emails and get started on Council business. Unfortunately, he had about a million emails from the entirety of his new Selection planners, not just Nicole and Christine and his mother, but Nat, Adele, Gracie, and Elvira. Much of it was a forward that contained several long-running jokes between them, mostly about Ethan being an idiot and Gracie having to turn him down at the end of his Selection. There were about three from the Council, and the one from Colin reminded him that the Prime Minister was out of Angeles for a few days, so there wasn't anything terribly important. The other one was a recap of yesterday's meeting, and the last one had canceled today's meeting because Colin, Elvira, and apparently Wesley wouldn't be there.

That was a bit of surprise since Wesley had every intention of avoiding the Selection, but he'd ask Andrew at breakfast. By then, it was inevitable that he had to read some of the Selection emails, ignoring the list of suggested girls to eliminate, girls to take on dates to see if they would be eliminated, date ideas, and upcoming events. The only event he marked on his calendar was the Victory Ball next week.

There was a memo from his mom that had a subject line in all caps, so he figured he'd better read it. It reminded him of three dates he had scheduled last night that he had no recollection of doing so, lunch with Lady Reese (hence why he couldn't attend the Council meeting), a tour of the palace with Lady Isabella, and then taking Lady Iris downtown tomorrow afternoon.

Other than that, Queen Francesca was ordering him to meet with Lady Lillian as soon as possible to apologize for what happened before Lissa had taken him into the hallway and suggested scheduling dates as soon as possible with Lady Eleanor and Lady Fallon, both who had emerged as early favorites among the people.

Wesley closed the laptop lid with a little more force than necessary as the realization set it. He groaned and rubbed his face in his hands. He had forgotten somewhere in between the hangover and memories about meeting Eleanor last night. He had been drunkenly wandering the palace, avoiding going to bed, and found solace in the empty, dark Great Room. Somehow she had found him there, and why, oh why, had he been possessed to give her Lissa's necklace?

He had meant to talk to Lissa today, and apologize for their conversation last night, and try to convince her that it had only been the alcohol talking, but apparently, the alcohol had made him ruin that plan. To make things worse, Eleanor and Lissa were from the same province. Wesley had a lot of explaining to do, including to Lillian, about his panic attack.

And also, apparently to Fallon, though this time he would be sure to wear a tie so she couldn't concoct another excuse. The girl from Yukon still scared him, though more her family than anything, there was something about her that made him determined to talk to her more. Maybe it was just the idea of being rejected over not having a tie on or his shoes were untied, or maybe it was how terrified she had seemed when she had spoken to him. He'd have to ask her in person instead of sending a card, there would be less of a chance of her turning him down.

The next order of business would be to look at the list of ladies he hadn't connected with during the reception and eliminate some, but before he could, the sound of a car coming up the drive pulled his attention away.

That was weird, since not too many cars drove on the main driveway in front of the palace unless someone was coming or going. It wasn't any of the official black SUVs with tinted windows the guards used either, but a small red hatchback. Since the windows of his office overlooked the front of the palace, he watched it pull thru the drive, and park out of sight in the servants parking area, which answered the question of who the driver was, though not what they were doing out at five in the morning. He didn't expect to see them again, as the servant's quarters in the basement had an entrance by the lot, so Wesley was surprised when two hand-in-hand figures reappeared under the windows.

Even from the third floor, he could see their smiles, and that they were still dressed in evening clothes. And even from up there, he recognized them easily. Joseph looked different out of his uniform and in dark jeans and a white t-shirt with a blazer. Lissa looked totally different with her hair loose with lots of makeup, still in the dress from last night, though missing her blazer.

To make things even worse, they were walking quite close, and holding hands, and looked like they might have been drinking the way they walked. Wesley watched them disappear in one of the side entrances. The sight brought a sick taste to his mouth, and not from the coffee. He felt his stomach tighten and felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—jealousy.

And for a moment, it was almost worse than the memories.

Wesley stood up so quickly his chair went flying backward, jostling the papers even more. He balled up his fists, more to avoid throwing his laptop or coffee mug in his anger, and gave the chair another shove across the room. The only way he knew how to fix this was to run away.

By the time Joseph appeared for his job-nearly an hour late and looking considerably less happy with dark circles under his eyes and even worse of an attitude than usual—Wesley was back at his desk, working away on the first few ladies to eliminate. He had gone for a run around the palace grounds (twice) and was showered and dressed.

"Good morning, sir," Joseph said, entering the room. "Anyway, I can be of service?"

Wesley looked up, trying to look calm even though he wanted to punch his valet for more than just being an ass.

"Maybe an hour ago you could have been, but I don't need anything right now."

"Well, you're always telling me you don't need me anyway, so I figured you wouldn't," Joseph retorted, not seeming to care that he was addressing royalty.

"Late night? You look terrible," Wesley said, gritting his teeth.

Joseph smirked. "It was worth it."

Wesley nearly broke his pen in half. Struggling to maintain his composure, he spoke in his calmest voice. "I don't need anything, so please go away."

He pretended not to see the valet's eyeroll, and went back to his work, though he spent the next ten minutes staring at his notes, and burning with anger.

In the end, he may have taken it out on some of the Selected. Ethan had eliminated eleven girls after his first meeting, Andrew had only sent six home. Wesley went a little crazy and eliminated fourteen, leaving him with twenty-one. To be fair, his mom had suggested ten of them, and the other four were just his own opinions. They were all nice girls, mostly younger ones from the southern provinces. He was under strict "suggestions" to not eliminate any of the girls from the provinces that had seceded or were high in rebel support, so they were all staying, even Lady Dresden, who hated his guts.

He hadn't connected with any of the fourteen, they all seemed too starstruck to talk or the opposite and didn't like him. Wesley had only made some polite small talk with them, and none of them were remarkable. It was a mix of all the castes, and Queen Francesca approved it, so he went with it. After breakfast, he convinced Nicole to come with him to the rooms of each of the eliminated girls to tell them personally. Most of them were okay with it, only trying hard not to cry. The girl from Allens looked like she might slap him, but only nodded and slammed the door in his face.

Nicole said it would look good like he was serious about it, but he wasn't. It hurt too much to think about other things, and this was easier.

He had lunch with Lady Reese, took Lady Isabella on a tour of the palace, sent a note to Lady Lillian, and avoided seeing Lissa or Joseph. Day one of the Selection was looking good.

The ladies only lessons with Christine and Nicole (and no doubt many of the other former Selected crashing their party) in the morning and had gathered in the Woman's Room after lunch. After overseeing preparations for his date with Lillian, Wesley headed to doors that always seemed close to him. He had texted Nicole, asking her to make sure that Fallon would come out into the hall so he could ask her out for tomorrow, and just as he approached, he found the brunette stepping outside.

She looked elegant, with her blonde streaked hair in soft curls, dressed in an elegant knee-length light blue dress with white heels, her big eyes watching his every movement. Wesley straightened his tie and stopped in front of her.

"Lady Fallon, you look lovely," he said.

The model only blinked and nibbled on her lip. She held her arms in front of her, pressed against her stomach, though she stood straight, with her shoulders thrown back as if she expected a photographer to appear and capture her for a magazine or something.

She didn't say anything, so Wesley awkwardly chuckled.

"So…" he began, but Fallon beat him to it.

"Are you wearing a bowtie on purpose or are you actually trying to make me hate you?"

Her voice was soft, and as much as he wished it was mean, there was no doubt of her brutal honesty.

"Whaa-?" he glanced down at his bowtie, having dressed up for his date with Lillian. Okay, yeah it was navy blue and his pants and blazer were a lighter shade, but…

"It's not _that_ bad," he mumbled.

Fallon looked up, and they made eye contact for all of half a second before she looked back at the offending accessory.

"It's a _bowtie_. And it doesn't match."

"Okay, fine. We'll do this your way," Wesley yanked off the bowtie, and then held out his arms to prove his point. "Will you go on a date with me?"

Fallon wrinkled her nose as she took in his outfit sans bowtie. "Are you only asking because of my last name?" She said it was almost like a sigh.

Wesley sheepishly lowered his arms, "Maybe…"

She made a little humming noise. "Hmm…I don't think I can go out with you until you show me better clothes. Sorry?"

"Why is that a question?" Wesley asked.

Fallon shrugged, clamping her lips together. "I don't know. I'm sorry, I have to go," her voice squeaked, and before Wesley could respond she ducked back into the barrier of the Woman's Room, preventing him from following.

"I'll bring cookies!" he called after her before the door closed, which only made the entire female population within burst into laughter.

Wesley may have hit himself purposely in the face with the door, but it was louder than he intended, and he could hear more laughs from inside. This day was getting worse and worse.

Still leaning against the door of the Woman's Room, he sent Nicole another text.

 _Can I please come in? Fallon turned me down again, so maybe if I ask her in front of an audience she'll say yes._

 _Even if you bring cookies, no, sorry :)_ came a few seconds later from Nicole.

 _Can you tell them I'm taking a really strong allergy medicine that makes me loopy so they don't think I'm an idiot?_

Nicole didn't reply, and Wesley didn't get a chance to bug her more, because the next thing he knew, the door was opening, and because he was still leaning his forehead against it, he lost his balance and fell down in a heap, almost knocking over the door opener.

The ladies were now laughing hysterically as Wesley scrambled to his feet. In front of him, Lady Lillian stepped back in surprise, covering her mouth with her hand. This was their second meeting, and of course, the second time they had literally run into each other.

"I am so sorry!" she said.

From across the room, he saw Nicole and Nat doubled over with laughter, no doubt relishing their Selection coordinator roles even more now.

"You're not supposed to be in here!" Nat exclaimed.

"Sorry," Wesley said, standing. He gave his most courteous bow. "Ladies, my apologies," he turned to Lillian and offered her his arm, "I believe we have a date, Lady Lillian?"

The tall blonde smiled, and then accepted his arm, and Wesley quickly steered them back out into the hall.

"I'm not sure that started off in the best way possible," he said when the door closed behind them.

Lillian shook her head and brushed her shoulder-length blonde hair out of her face. "No, but it was definitely memorable, especially to happen twice! By the way, you don't have to call me Lady, unless it's a law or something."

"Coolio. Oh, you don't have to call me Prince either. It takes way too long, and half the time I don't even realize people mean me anyway."

She smiled and dipped her head so her hair covered her face. She was wearing a loose, simple cut dress that was a sort of faded blue color, paired with open-toed heels. In her hair, she wore a wreath of pale pink flowers.

"So, I thought I'd show you the gardens," Wesley said. "I take it you like the outdoors, working in forestry and all?"

Lillian nodded, "I know it's on the same coast, but Angeles is a totally different climate than Ottaro."

She didn't mention how their first meeting had ended, with him freaking out on her, and Wesley was grateful. For now, he just had to focus on being friendly and charming. He took her to one of the side entrances that would lead outside-never mind that it was the same one that Lissa and Joseph had used early this morning, forget about that.

Lillian was quiet as she let go of his arm, and they stepped out on the terrace, taking in a deep breath as she turned her face up towards the sun. She didn't seem nervous, which was nice because he was.

"It's so warm," she commented as they stepped down the steps of the terrace and out onto one of the garden paths.

"It's so hot, you mean," Wesley joked, shrugging out his blazer. Lillian smiled, and he watched her turn in a full circle to take in the gardens around them.

"How do you keep everything so perfect?" she asked, running her hands over the trunk of a small tree as they passed it.

"Not sure, I know the gardeners work out here all the time…"

"What about you, do you ever come out here?" Lillian turned her blue eyes on him, but he could tell she was being sincere.

Wesley slipped his hands into his pockets. "Not really. Unless I have a reason…"

She took his arm again. "Well, I know you're a prince and all, but my advice is to come outside more. You'd be surprised how it can help you."

Wesley laughed. "What do you mean, help?"

"I don't know, you seem pretty tense. You should try to relax." She said it so simply, like maybe actually _possibly_ there was a chance that that could happen, that everything could go back to normal, that everything could be _okay._

Only for a second though, and then he realized what she was implying.

He tried to take in that same breath of fresh air to calm himself down like she had down when they came outside, but it didn't really work. He came to a stop and turned to face Lillian.

"Look, about last night, I'm so sorry. I don't really know what happened to me when you said you were from Ottaro, I just couldn't…there were a lot of things that happened up there and…" he didn't know how to finish, so he just let the words hang in the air.

Lillian's blue eyes burned into him, but in them, he didn't find judgment or embarrassment or fear. There was something different—something that told him that she knew exactly how he felt.

"You don't have to apologize, Wesley. It's okay."

And for the second time since they'd come outside, he felt like there was hope, that maybe it was okay after all.

"It's okay?" he repeated.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I know that sometimes bad things happen, and it's hard to forget about them." The end of her sentence came out in a rush, the words all blurred together.

Wesley let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Lillian's lips twitched into a sad sort of smile, and they continued walking.

"The war sucked, didn't it?"

"Yep," Lillian agreed.

There was nothing more to be said, except the idle chatter as Wesley pointed out all the cool places in the gardens and Lillian told him the names of flowers and trees, and he asked her about her time at the palace so far and she told him about her family. Her older sister was married, and she lived with her mother, having lost her father in the war, which Wesley didn't ask about further.

"Here's one of the greenhouses," Wesley mentioned as they came up to a small building, the glass walls framed with white paneling, and a high steepled roof.

"It's lovely," Lillian said. She wasn't one to talk a whole lot, but with her, quiet was easy.

The inside of the small building was warm, though not overly so. There was a raised flower bed around the perimeter, except for the doorways on either side and in the center, was a brick patio, where Wesley had the rest of their date set up.

He had found out from her maid that Lillian's favorite food was cherries, so he had made sure to include those, as well as some other snacks and drinks.

"Here you go," Wesley pulled out her chair, and Lillian gracefully sat down, and grabbed a handful of cherries. He sat down opposite her, and followed suit, except with chips.

"Try one of these, they're better for you," Lillian tossed him a cherry, grinning.

"Yeah, that's why I wasn't eating them!" He joked, pulling off the stem, and chucking the whole fruit into his mouth and almost breaking his teeth on the pit. He mumbled a creative string of expletives as he tried to remove the seed from his mouth, all while Lillian laughed softly at him.  
"You've never had a cherry before?" she asked.

"Never one that tried to kill me!"

She laughed more, her blue eyes lighting up as he spat out the pit in an un-princely manner. Wesley avoided the cherries while they talked, sticking to safe topics that didn't dig into the war for either of them, at least as much as possible.

"So, what do you think of our humble backyard?" Wesley asked, nodding to the gardens surrounding the greenhouse.

"Humble or backyard aren't really words that I would use to describe it," Lillian said, the corners of her mouth turning up in a delicate sort of grin. "But it's nice."

"Just nice? I mean, this is the palace and yeah, it's _nice_ but surely it's more than that?" Wesley feigned horror around a mouthful of chips.

Lillian laughed at his antics, and he decided he liked making her smile.

"It's absolutely lovely, and maybe it's just me, but I like my outdoors to be wild. Giant trees, mountains, and valleys, no one around…I wouldn't expect that in someone's "humble backyard", though. It could be a lot worse."

Her blue eyes took on a shine when she spoke, and it made Wesley want to see all these things with her, and why it made her seem so sad. At the same time, he knew the answer, somewhere in the back of his mind, he just didn't want it to be true.

"Well since you've already insulted my backyard enough," he joked, "how could it possibly get any worse?" It was an attempt to lighten the mood or maybe his tendency to joke about everything took over and wouldn't let him be serious.

She shrugged a quick light shrug and looked out the windows. "It could all be gone."

Fire. Gunshots. Smoke everywhere. Tangled in his parachute, the canopy tangled in the branches. The cold, bloodstained snow seeping into his very bones—

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, and pushed the memories away.

They never ran far anymore.

He reached for another handful of chips and shoved them in his mouth.

"What do you like to do in your free time? Besides make fun of my backyard, that is,"

His voice was too loud, too happy, and he blamed the crack halfway through on chewing.

Lillian looked back at him, cleared her throat, and put on a cheerful smile. "I like hiking, obviously. And photography, when I have time. Other than that, I like to read, and sometimes write."

"Oh cool, we should have a library date sometime. That is, if I can tear you away from my humble backyard?"

This time her laugh was the slightest bit strained, but the memories had left them for now.

"I would like that."

They stayed a good while longer, talking about nothing important, or at least trying to. Before long, he had to get her back to give her time to get ready for dinner and meet with his Selection advisors to plan out a few things.

He kissed her hand when they got to her door, and said their goodbyes, before he headed to one of the parlors on the first floor, one that had been dubbed the Selection office, and thankfully- one that he could enter. Christine had sent him an"urgent" email on planning for the upcoming ball, though he didn't really see why his opinion on tablecloth colors and guests lists mattered, but oh well.

As he passed the Woman's Room, however, he was suddenly stopped by someone pouncing from the doorway.

"Wesley!" Lady Eleanor said brightly, her face lit up with a cheery smile. "Hi!"

Wesley nearly dropped his phone, and jumped out of his skin at her sudden appearance, skidding to a stop, and jolting backward.

"Woah, slow down buddy, it's just me," Eleanor laughed, holding out her hands in surrender.

"Oh, sorry. Hey, Eleanor…" he said, trying to figure out why she was ambushing him—again. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to speak.

Her face broke into a happy smile, and she quickly tucked her dark hair behind her ears, bouncing on her toes in a way that made him remember that every time they had talked she seemed like she was terrified.

Her hands went to her throat, and he watched her wrap her fingers around the necklace—Lissa's necklace.

"I just wanted to say thank you again for the necklace, and to tell you how much I'm looking forward to our date,"

"Ummm, our date?" Wesley laughed awkwardly, racking his brain for any memory of this.

Eleanor shrugged quickly, "It's not been decided or anything," she said so fast she almost tripped over her words. "But whenever it is, I'm looking forward to it!"

Before he could reply—not that he even knew what to say—he was tackled again, this time by two much smaller figures. He started, caught off guard by another surprise attack.

"Uncle Wesley!" Evangeline cried, echoed by Sophie as the little twin princesses attached themselves to his legs. Wesley's heart was pounding, and he hated it. They were just his nieces, and he couldn't even relax in his own home.

"Hey, girls!" he knelt down, shaking off everything else, and wrapped an arm around each of them. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Mommy has a meeting with you!" Sophie said, giggling, and Wesley glanced over his shoulder to see his sister-in-law, the queen, approaching, looking immaculate as always. He waved, but the greeting died on his lips as he saw Lissa behind her.

She was smiling at the girls, but when she saw Wesley, she looked down at her high heels. There were dark circles under her eyes, though she had done her best to cover them up with makeup. Getting in at five am probably did that to you. Even worse, though she was back in the professional dress of a governess, the light gray blazer that she wore over her white blouse and pleated black skirt was strikingly similar to the one he had seen Joseph wearing at said five am when they had gotten back, and it didn't fit her either.

By then, Evie and Sophie had realized that one of the Selected was in their presence, and had gotten shy, running back to Lissa and Christine, and peeking curiously at Eleanor.

"Lady Eleanor, how are you?" Christine asked warmly.

Eleanor looked even more nervous than before, but she managed a reply. "I'm great, Your Majesty." She curtsied, and let go of the necklace.

Wesley missed whatever else they said after that.

Don't look at her. Don't look at her.

But he couldn't help it.

Lissa met his eyes, and even without asking, he knew that she had seen _her_ necklace on Eleanor's neck. But what he didn't know was why he had done that.

She lifted her chin, and her green eyes narrowed, and then, ever so slightly, she smiled.

The memories never ran far anymore.


	10. We Burn Strong and Bright

**Hi everyone! This chapter is crap and it's supposed to have a whole second part but I'm posting it now BECAUSE IT'S THE BIRTHDAY OF MY LOVE** UltimateMaxmericaShipper/Sora Kalopsia **WHO HAS BEEN WITH ME SINCE JUST AFTER THE BEGINNING OF SELECTED TWINS AND INSPIRES SO MUCH MOTIVATION FOR ME TO WRITE!**

 **Also these people for reviewing!** Nameless, RunawayGirl8125, bibliopile609, mnbvcxz-xx, Anastasia the Goddess of Drama, canifindtheone, **and** delovlies **!**

 **So as I said, this chapter is like only halfway done, there's supposed to be a whole lot more (that I already have started) but I'm posting it as is.**

 **Check out my Pinterest (links on my profile) for lots of extras and fun things! I've mentionted the upcoming Victory Ball and I have a whole board for that, if you want to browse gowns for characters (or find your own!). Right now I'm estimating it to be chapter 13 but knowing me that may change!**

 **-Shades**

…

Blind.

He was blind.

Only this wasn't how he ever thought being blind would be. He'd always thought it would be blackness, but everywhere he looked was white.

The ground. The sky. Everything around him.

Snow.

Fog.

(Or it was smoke.)

He had no idea where he was.

There was snow on the ground, and he couldn't feel his feet by then and he wasn't sure about anything anymore.

A shout.

They were behind him, somewhere.

The heaviness of the fog and smoke made it impossible to see but he heard every sound like it was right there.

He wasn't sure about anything anymore. The fear clogged his throat and sprinted through his bloodstream. He was shivering so hard his teeth clanked together but he didn't know if it was from cold or something else .

Gunshots. Closer this time.

He didn't even have time to think, instinct just kicked in and he threw himself down on the snow. His hands were numb, so it took him a second to realize he was on the ground.

There was fresh snow all over his clothes from his falling, sticking to the half-frozen blood.

 _Drake. Oh God, Drake_.

His friend was dead.

No.

No. he wasn't. This wasn't real. This was just a dream.

" _You're really the best, you know that?" she whispered as he grabbed her hand and tiptoed up to the third floor, creeping up the stairs like a ninja even though it was just a game of sardines._

" _Yeah, I know," he said as they came to the landing. Empty._

" _Shoot, they're not hiding up here." Panicking, he turned and ran down the stairs._

" _It's not a matter of life or death!" she called after him, laughing._

That stupid memory. It wouldn't go away.

For a moment, he wanted to stay there forever, hiding in the snowbank. But then he realized he was still wearing his uniform, and when you were white-blind, the dark blue stuck out like nothing else.

So did they.

He saw them coming, shadowy figures blurred in the mist. He could see they were carrying guns, and there were a lot of them, but they were still too far away to distinguish anything else.

Running.

He was up and moving again before he even realized it. In the back of his mind he remembered something called the Fight or Flight response, and because he was running that must make him a coward.

But he kept running.

The shouts were getting louder, and suddenly he realized how much of an idiot he was, of course, they could see him.

Blind. He was blind.

White-hot pain lurched through his body, and it was almost overtaking the fear.

There wasn't cold anymore. His leg was on fire.

He kept running, but collapsed, unable to keep going.

Shot. Shot in the leg.

Drake's blood, all over his coat. Blood all over the snow. His blood.

He remembered blood all over her dress. It had been pink, the perfect gown for their birthday party. His blood.

It wasn't his leg, he decided. It belonged to someone else. It had to. This was just a dream.

Except it was so cold and he was so scared, and his leg was fire and he didn't think that dreams should to be this real.

He tried to get up, tried to keep running because they were coming, he was shot. His leg refused to do anything other than bleed. It was good at that now that there was a bullet embedded in it.

In a moment of brilliance, he reached for the radio that should have been clipped on his belt, but it was gone, replaced with frozen blood. He didn't know if it was his or Drake's anymore.

No one was coming. No one except for them. But they weren't going to save him.

They were going to kill him.

And they were going to make it hurt—

"Hey, you okay?"

Wesley turned around and blinked, finding himself confronted with a pair of icy blue eyes.

"Your Majesty…or whatever?" she hastily added when he didn't reply. A long piece of golden-blonde hair slipped over one eye.

One of the girls in the Selection. He shook his head, trying to clear away everything. One minute he had been walking down the Main Hall, heading upstairs, and the next he was back up north.

"Um, yeah. I'm fine."

Her blonde hair was rather a mess, having suffered the causality of being pulled into a messy ponytail. She was holding the skirt of her dress in the most un-princess-like wad around her knees with one hand and the straps of her shoes dangling off the other. Wes finally remembered her from the reception.

"Lady Vera," he blurted out, his remembrance of her name not staying politely in his head.

She wrinkled her nose in a manner that was kinda cute. "Just Vera's fine. What are you doing here?"

Wesley looked around and realized he had stopped in the middle of the stairs and was holding the banister so tight his knuckles were white. He forced his hand to unclench and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. Woah, deja-vu.

"Hello? Did you hear me?" Vera asked, looking genuinely confused. "Is it one of those things where you only reply if I use the right title or something?"

In spite of himself, Wesley broke into a smile.

"You're funny."

Vera widened her eyes jokingly. "And you're blocking the way. Seriously, I'm going to be late for breakfast and maybe they won't let me eat and I'll starve to death and I don't think I'll be so funny after that."

He couldn't help but laugh at her, probably because he couldn't decide if she was joking or if she was actually serious. It sounded like something he would say, and it struck him as funny.

"Well we wouldn't want that, now would we?" Wesley said. "But I'm a prince so I think I can commune your starvation sentence."

"You'd be surprised," she muttered, flipping her hair out of her eyes with a toss of her head, sending the strands into a frenzy. "So what brings you to blocking poor defenseless girl's paths down the fanciest stairs I've ever seen in my frickin' life?"

Wesley shrugged before he even realized it. "Just hanging out, enjoying my Saturday morning, I guess."

Vera cocked her head, and one side of her mouth crinkled down as she studied him. "Where were you? In your head I mean, obviously you weren't here."

He shrugged again. "I told you, hanging out and thinking about some…budget reports…and hanging out… you know how we princes do."

She waited a moment to respond, and Wesley broke out into an unexplainable sweat. He couldn't explain why, but talking to Vera made him feel like she had caught him in the biggest lie of his life. Maybe she had.

"Okay, but you were standing there the whole time I was coming down them and you didn't even notice me until I said something. I'm not sure I would call that hanging out and thinking about budgets, no matter how princely."

"Were you spying on me?" Wesley asked casually, leaning against the banister, "because if you were that's cool but I might have to alert security, so you don't get arrested."

Vera snorted. "Yeah, me spying, real funny. Maybe Miss-Spy-Herself-Georgia Sorrell is, but I'm not."

"Huh?"

"Oh, you know. Lady Georgia claims to have spied for you guys but has her face slathered all over rebel propaganda and was right in the heart of Yukon where the secession happened?" Vera raised her eyebrows, "little bit sketchy if you ask me."

"Aren't you from St. George? Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's where most of the fighting was."

Vera's eyes sharpened, and Wesley noticed she held herself a little taller. "And I was right there in it all."

"Me too."

Neither of them said anything else, leaving everything unsaid and at the same time knowing exactly what the other meant.

Wesley shuffled his feet. "Well, I guess I should let you go to breakfast."

"Probably," Vera nodded, and walked down the stairs past him, before stopping and turning around.

"You never actually told me how I'm supposed to address you," she said.

Wesley smiled. "To be honest, I don't really feel like a prince most days. Plain ol' Wesley is fine by me."

"Plain and Old Wesley it is, then. See you around!" she called over her shoulder as she descended the rest of the stairs, barefoot and still holding up her skirts.

He chuckled and shook his head as he watched the blonde dash across the Main Hall to the dining room the Selected ate in when they weren't dining with the rest of his family, undoubtedly late. His stomach tightened, thinking of all the girls in there he had yet to talk to again. Other than their brief conversations at the reception, he had only gone out on dates with a few of them.

That was about to remedied. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had the alcohol-blurred memory of setting up this date with Lady Iris. To be sure, he had had Joseph confirm it for him with her just in case he had dreamt it. She was beautiful and genuine and kind of adorable and it made him nervous and being somewhat intoxicated at the reception hadn't helped.

Wesley had gotten special permission from Nicole and Christine to let Iris eat breakfast early so they could be ready to leave early. In hindsight, exploring downtown Angeles probably wasn't the best date idea because Iris lived there, but all the same, he was excited.

Despite all the ladies being downstairs, the second floor was bustling with the staff, reminding him of a hotel. As they went about their duties, pausing to acknowledge him with a bow or curtsey, something that had started to weird him out since he had gotten back from the north.

He shook it off and caught sight of Elvira waiting in one of the window nooks (if nook was a word one could use to describe a palace that is) right by Iris's room. The multi-titled former contender in Ethan's Selection and member of the counter-revolution, as well as Wesley's commanding officer and the new Secretary of the Illean Military, looked rather frightening in her black jeans, top and heeled boots, not to mention her dark hair and even darker eye makeup, but Wesley knew her better than that.

"Hey, Elvs, what's crack-a-lackin'?" he shot her some finger guns as he swaggered up to the small sitting area.

Elvira rolled her eyes. "I know technically you are a prince, but technically I'm also the boss of you when you're also in my command, so 'Elvs' is a bit unprofessional."

Wesley grinned, knowing that she was just joking. "Is everyone going to lecture me on my use of titles today? Should I do push-ups now?"

Elvira ruffled his hair, towering over him in her heels. "Only if you let me accompany you and Lady Iris on your excursion."

Wesley ducked away from her, and fixed his hair, or at least tried to. "Aw, come on, do you have to? I'm twenty-one!" he protested. "And besides, Andrew gave you a cushy government job so aren't you busy with the Council?"

"I would be, except our Prime Minister is out of town and one of our prince members is busy with his Selection, and just happens to be going into a city and that might be dangerous," she turned serious, "and I don't always trust the guards to do a good job in protecting you. They get away from the palace and they start having too much fun, especially if they're not going to be wearing uniforms."

"But it's Lady Iris's hometown. I can always bring Finn along. That dog never leaves my room, it seems like. He leaves his fur everywhere too."

The older girl patted his shoulder and spoke in her usual deadpan voice. "Not this time, Shreave. I'm your watchdog now."

Wesley sighed his most dramatic sigh. "Okaaayy, fine. But I'm not buying you food."

Elvira leveled him with what he liked to call her Captain Entrinken stare. "Oh really?"

Wesley tried to act annoyed but had to smile. "Your tax dollars at work!"

Elvira laughed, and Wesley realized it was one of the first times he had seen her happy in a long time. She had saved his ass more times than he could count, and even though he resented not being able to have a private date, he was glad she was coming along. Who knew, she might even scare off the paparazzi.

"I'll be at the car, don't worry, I don't need to protect you while you pick her up," Elvira said.

"Just don't scare off my guards too much!" he called after her, receiving a not so nice hand gesture in response.

He took a moment in the relative privacy of the nook to try to fix his hair and calm himself before knocking on Iris's door. He wasn't wearing a tie with his short-sleeved blue button-down and khaki shorts (he had ditched Joseph's 'salmon' option), so he hoped Fallon wasn't lurking nearby. His phone buzzed and he found a text from Elvira.

 _Hurry up and ask the girl, Private Loser._

Wesley laughed, attracting stares from some of the not-so-subtle maids going out their business. Elvira had taken to calling him that up north when he had been serving up there, especially during his flight training and the name had stuck. Even Drake had started calling him that.

There was a bit of a twinge there. He shook it off, and went to Iris's door and knocked.

Almost immediately, it opened up, revealing Iris, smiling brightly.

"Hi!" she chirped, brushing her short black hair off her face. Today she wore is lightly tousled, and clipped back on one side. As she had been at the reception, her outfit was structured, even if it was just a bright yellow sundress with neutral flats.

There was just something about her that made Wesley turn into a total goofball. Well, more of one.

"Hey, Iris!" he burst out loudly, no doubt getting more glances from the staff around the area. "You look great!"

Iris was starting to blush slightly as she looked down at her feet. "Thanks," she said. "It's not every day I get to show a prince around where I grew up."

"It's going to be awesome. I haven't been downtown since I left for the north. You ready to go?"

She smoothed back her hair again, something Wesley was starting to realize she did when she was nervous. "Um, yeah. Let me just grab my bag."

Iris ducked back into her room, leaving the door open just enough for him to see her room was just as artistic and structured as her fashion taste. She reappeared, looping a small purse over her shoulder that matched her shoes, of course.

"Okay, all set!"

Someone else apparently wanted to join the date as well, as a small brown blur charged out the door and into the hallway before stopping short, realizing it was unfamiliar territory.

Wesley halted in his tracks as his body decided it had to sneeze violently, which meant that the small brown blur was most likely a cat.

"Hime!" Iris cried, rushing out to scoop up the creature. It was indeed a cat, now purring almost as violently as Wesley's sneezing as it perched in its mistress's arms, peering at him with big green eyes.

"How did you smuggle a cat in here?" he asked, laughing around his allergies.

Iris nibbled her lip. "Technically, there wasn't any rule about no pets. Fallon brought her dog, I think. Besides, I couldn't leave Hime alone in my dorm," she scratched behind the cat's ears, "he would hate me for all eternity."

"That would be terrible. I vote Hime can stay." Wesley said.

"Do you want to pet him?" Iris asked. She got a thousand times more adorable when she was cuddling her cat, Wesley decided. Even if it made him sneeze his nose off, it was worth it.

He gave the cat a couple of pats, and it purred even louder than he had thought possible. He sneezed again.

"Ugh," he sniffled. "I better stop. This could get ugly."

Iris laughed softly and then kissed the top of Hime's head. "He likes to get out, but he's too much of a coward to run off," she added. "Don't worry, he's not coming with us." She set him down in the safety of her room and closed the door behind her. "Shall we go?"

"Onward!" Wesley exclaimed. "Actually, I probably should go find some tissues first."

"Oh, here you go," Iris pulled a small pack out of her purse, and handed them to him.

"Thanks," he took a few and gave the rest back, and then blew his nose loudly, making Iris laugh more as they made their way downstairs to the front doors. "So I should probably apologize for…whatever I said."

Iris made an awkward laugh sound and gave Wes a confused look. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the reception the other night, when I was…mildly intoxicated? I, um, I have no idea what I said to you, but it probably was embarrassing, and I should probably apologize."

He looked over at Iris and saw her blushing again. "To be honest, 'mildly' isn't the word I would use, but you were fine. You just laughed a lot really loudly."

"Oh good, I was only slightly drunk then. I do that normally."

Iris did the cute laugh sound again and cleared her throat. "No, not slightly. Go the other way."

Wesley wrinkled his nose. "Oh. That bad, huh?"

"Not bad, just several times louder and you almost tripped over your shoelaces every five minutes."

She didn't say it like she was judging him, which was nice. She glanced sideways at him and nervously smoothed back her hair with a giggle that probably could create chocolate ice cream cones with rainbow sprinkles out of thin air.

He didn't have to impress her. Something unkinked inside him and he relaxed his shoulders.

"Oh, that's okay. That happens to me all the time," he said, getting another laugh out of Iris as they left the front doors of the palace.

In front of the doors on the driveway, the black SUV was idling, with one of his guards driving and the other two in the next car behind the SUV.

Elvira met them before they got in the car, now wearing sunglasses.

"Lady Iris, I'm Captain Entrinken, and I'll be heading your protection detail this afternoon," she said, offering her hand to shake Iris's.

Iris's mouth dropped open and flushed a lot deeper than she ever had with Wesley. "Oh my goodness, are you-are you Elvira Entrinken?" her voice squeaked as she shook Elvira's hand.

Elvira broke her cold exterior and smiled. "Guilty as charged."

"I remember watching you during Prince Ethan's Selection!" she blurted out. "I loved your fashion taste and how you shut down Lady Mackenzie and—I'm so sorry, I'm rambling."

Elvira shook her head. "It's okay. I was pretty excited to meet all of you too. I hope you don't mind me crashing your date. I promise I'm going to stay out of the way unless something happens."

Iris nodded, seemingly too excited to form words. Wesley opened the door for the second row in the car for her, and she climbed in, even scooting all the way over so he didn't have to go around.

"You have to go everywhere with them?" she asked softly, motioning to the guards in the front.

Wesley flashed her an enthusiastic thumbs-up and a cheesy grin. "Perks of being a prince!"

They made small-talk about Iris's time at the palace so far as the car pulled around the massive driveway and headed downtown.

"So where are we going when we get there?" Iris piped up.

Wesley shrugged. "It's your town. Wherever you want!"

Iris did that laugh thing again that Wesley swore made flowers grow. "Prepare yourself now, then. I am going to show you ever architecturally cool building in this city!"

…


	11. I've Been Lost and Found Again

**This was supposed to be in the same chapter as the last one, but here it is anyway.**

 **Review shout-outs to** bibliophile609, Miss Kaydence, delovlies, **and** mnbvcxz-xx **! Thank you lot so much!**

 **Not much else to say, only that I hope to be updating a bunch over winter break, and the next chapter will be the first group date, with the top three or four characters whose creators have reviewed the most because I'm super petty!**

 **Please review!  
-Shades **

…

Saturday mornings had always been special to Lissa, and this one was shaping to be no exception.

All she had to get through was a nice quiet morning with Evie and Sophie, with no lessons, because it was Saturday, of course. After that, she had the rest of the weekend off. Joseph had promised to take her downtown for his afternoon off, and Lissa would be lying if she said she wasn't excited.

While their date after the reception for the Selection in the early hours of the morning was basically a blur of jealously and wine, she did find out that Joseph was a lot nicer when he got away from the palace and everyone else he had to impress. If that Joseph was any indication of who he actually was, maybe she didn't even need Wesley.

At least it was going to be special until her young charges had cajoled her into going down to the Woman's Room to visit the Selected. The ladies had been overjoyed to see the two young princesses, and from what Lissa could tell, it was equal parts sucking up and because they were so cute.

It was kind of like being abandoned at a party where you didn't know anyone except the person who had left you, except not. Lissa was hiding over in a corner that she remembered from her own time in Ethan's Selection and had sent Gracie like one hundred texts begging her to come so she wouldn't be awkwardly the only non-Selected girl there, but her friend hadn't even received them yet. It probably had something to do with Damian just getting back from his trip.

All of the rest of her resident gal pals who also lived at the palace were unable to save her for various reasons. Nicole was holed up in her room with morning sickness, and Nat was watching Jamie for her. Elvira said she was working, and Adele was busy with her kids, even though she didn't technically live at the palace. Christine wasn't coming until eleven thirty for her daughters when Lissa got off for the weekend.

She drummed her fingers across her floral skirt, and fussed with her pink sweater for the umpteenth time, trying to look professional and not as awkward as she felt. Evie and Sophie had completely abandoned there, and to be honest, she was a bit miffed. Across the room, the ladies were clustered around them. Even cold and hostile Lady Dresden had cracked a smile as Sophie talked animatedly, perched on quiet Lady Nikolai's lap. Lady Eleanor was helping Evie with a ballet move, with Lady Alyex for help. Of course with their mother and aunt both being dancers, the girls were too.

If she came out and said it, Lissa hated being ignored. It made her feel like she wasn't good enough to be in the esteemed company of the ladies, and reminded her that she had spent the first fifteen years of her life as a Seven, one step away from being the lowest of the low. And she hated that.

Her brother Adrian, now seventeen and almost to graduate high school, would probably now tell her that she was being silly. She had been in the Elite of Ethan's Selection, after all. She was a college graduate, and had raised her family from nothing, and was now working in a prestigious position she loved.

But sitting here in the corner made her think of all the times she had spent here five years ago, only back when she was "the slutty Seven" and when she actually wasn't worth any of the other ladies' time. Back then, Wesley had been the one to pull her out of that and save her.

She didn't need saving this time.

"Um, hey. It's Lissa, right?"

Lissa looked up, startled out of her thoughts. One of the Selected girls has actually deigned to talk to her. She recognized the girl almost immediately as Callista Ives, probably due to a little too much time watching the coverage on television for unadmitted reasons.

Lissa cleared her throat. "Oh, hi. Yes, I'm Lissa Dove…" she blurted out.

Callista gave her a tight-lipped smile and held out her hand to shake. "Callista Ives."

"Nice to meet you," Lissa said, shaking the shorter girl's hand. She had light brown skin covered with freckles and black hair pulled into a tight bun. She wasn't very tall but had killer curves, enhanced by her outfit. While almost all the other girls looked like perfect princesses-in-the-making in their delicate dresses and heels, Callista was wearing an oversized sweater and leggings.

"You're the governess, right?" Callista stated more than asked.

"Yeah, just for those two right now," Lissa said, nodding.

Callista cocked her head slightly. "Isn't that all there is? Besides the little-whats-his-name boy who breaks things?"

"Aidan? He's only four, and besides, he's a boy, so he doesn't need a governess."

"All kids need someone," Callista said. "And it seems like their parents are too busy to be their parents so they have to hire someone to do it for them…" she looked Lissa up and down, and then shook her head.

Lissa raised her eyebrows, fighting back the urge to jump up and put this girl in her place. She took a deep breath. "Actually, Christine and Andrew are great parents, and so are Nicole and Ethan. And yeah, they have a lot on their plate, but I don't know any parent's who spend every waking moment of every day with their kids."

Callista was quiet for a moment, frowning. "Touché," she said. "Still, maybe they need to focus on the country a bit more. Cute kids, though."

This time, Lissa was unable to fight back a retort. "Did you come all the over here just to rip on the monarchy's parenting?"

"Actually, I saw you sitting here alone and couldn't stand to be around that flock of chickens any longer, so I thought I'd come see if you were more interesting."

Lissa was saved when the doors opened, ushering in King Andrew. Callista stepped back and looked at the ground as the rest of the girls jumped to their feet and attempted to curtsey and be polite. Evie and Sophie ran towards their dad and tackled him around the legs with a bombardment of giggling and happy squeals.

If Lissa had ever seen the king look awkward before, right then topped it all. Andrew waved to her, and then addressed the Selected.

"As you were, ladies. I don't want to interrupt," he said, running his hand through his reddish-brown hair. Lissa watched them argue amongst themselves about in strained whispers as they decided whether they should sit down or stay standing. Andrew, Evie, and Sophie headed over her way, and Callista excused herself without a word.

"I know it's only ten, but I thought I'd pick them up early," Andrew said, looking taller than usual holding the hands of his daughters. "Christine put me on kid duty."

Lissa smiled. "I'm sure they'll be excited to spend time with you," she said, never knowing quite what to say to her boss who was also the king and the older brother of her ex kinda-boyfriend and the guy whose Selection she had been in.

"Well I know we've been having you work extra hours since the Selection, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to let you off for your weekend early," Andrew said, as Evie tugged on his suit jacket urgently. He scooped her up, much to her delight, as Sophie hugged Lissa goodbye.

"I leave them in your capable hands, then, sir." Lissa curtsied, and she could feel the eyes of the all the Selected as she had a conversation with the king of Illea like it was no big deal. Faking confidence, she shot Callista her best "I told you so" look, and sauntered past the rest of the Selected.

She half-wished she could be there among them, competing for Wesley, but at the same time, would she have been the same girl now if that had been different?

Maybe some things were just not meant to be.

Joseph met her back in the parking area for the servants a little bit later. Out of his uniform and into a casual navy polo shirt, salmon-colored shorts, and aviators, he somehow managed to look incredibly different.

"Hey," he said, breaking into a grin. "you're off early."

Lissa smiled, and her stomach filled with some pretty giddy butterflies as he lightly kissed her cheek in greeting.

"So I am," she replied. "The king himself decided to pick up the girls earlier than planned."

Joseph opened the door of his red hatchback for her. "Ahh, maybe I should start liking him a bit more, then."

"Maybe you should." Lissa climbed in the passenger seat and shrugged out of the sweater she had worn earlier to make her cream floral skirt and pink crop top be more work appropriate. Joseph came around to the driver's side and sat down next to her.

"Ready?"

"Absolutely!"

The palace was located not too far away from downtown, but still secluded away from the city, so it took a while to drive there, but Lissa didn't mind. It was a gorgeous day and the views were stunning, and it was warm and sunny. Joseph opened the sunroof and the windows and drove down the twisting coastal highway like a maniac, but he assured he had down it a thousand times.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Lissa shouted over the wind as he took the car around a turn at what she would most definitely not classify as a safe speed.

Joseph looked over at her, smirking, and Lissa gripped the door handle as he took his eyes off the road. "I've been driving this road since I was sixteen, I promise you it is," Joseph yelled back, the wind muffling his words. They quickly realized conversation was hopeless, so he turned on the radio and gave diva-worthy performances of every song that came on, leaving Lissa gasping for breath from laughter.

After they left the hills behind, and traffic slowed them down enough that they could hear each other enough to talk, Lissa spoke up.

"You've been working at the palace since you were sixteen?" she asked.

"I was a footman before Prince Ethan's Selection…you probably wouldn't remember me. I was so bad at my job they barely had me doing anything. I got promoted about halfway through."

"And you've been there since?"

Joseph nodded. "Yeah, ever since I finished high school. I'm a lot better at being a valet than a footman. I remember you, though."

"What are you, some kind of a stalker?" Lissa teased, nudging him with her knee. To her surprise, Joseph turned a delightful shade of red.

He shrugged, "I just remember thinking you were really pretty. Especially during the whole birthday masquerade ball for you and Prince Wesley. I spilled my whole tray of drinks when you walked in because I was staring at you. I couldn't remember which one you were, and I walked right into another footman. After that, I worked with King Andrew's valet, back when he was still just the heir."

Lissa laughed, imagining a teenage Joseph actually being that terrible at something. "Well, I guess I'll take it as a compliment, then. Even if you didn't remember who I was."

"There was just so many of you back then, kinda like there is now! I only ever remembered you after that because of how you finally got me into a better career."

He said it positively, but it made Lissa get quiet for a second. "Not because I was 'one of the Sevens' that everyone talked about?"

Joseph took advantage of one of the stoplights to look her in the eyes. "Lissa, first off, you weren't a Seven anymore then. And I was a Six. Still am." It was his turn to get quiet. "Look, I know how it must seem, I mean, I'm just a valet, and you've been to college, you've got like two degrees, and I barely graduated high school-"

"Hey," she stopped him, putting her hand on his arm. "I've never really cared about all that stuff anyway."

If it was possible, Joseph looked at her in a way that only be described as bashful, and Lissa snatched her hand back. She quickly changed the subject.

"You also have a nice red car."

"Well, the job pays for everything else I need, so I figured I might as well get a nice one."

"So, talk me through downtown Angeles. I don't think I've ever been here, except for like five minutes driving through with Gracie."

"As it just so happens," Joseph said, "I'm a native, so you're in good hands."

Maybe the specialness of her Saturday was saved after all. They ditched the car in some free parking area Joseph knew about and set out on foot to explore the city. He took her to lunch and showed her all the cool landmarks and places to go, even the areas of the city that been destroyed during Mitch Levi's attempted rebellion. She found out he had left the palace after the Convicting during Ethan's Selection, the one that had had an extreme loss of life. He had left along with many others and stayed with his family further south for the months until the monarchy had been restored.

She teased him about his singing in the car, and how he acted when he was working and endlessly about spilling the drinks years ago. He showed her a different side of him, one that wasn't a jerk about everything who had to better than everyone.

"This place has the best ice cream ever, but it's totally addicting, so I'm warning you," Joseph said, taking her down a side street.

"Would it be so bad to take me again?" Lissa joked, letting her hand hang by her side, accidentally brushing Joseph's many times before he got the hint and held her hand as they walked. The giddy butterflies were back.

At least they were for a moment.

Until Joseph caught sight of someone across the street, and his face fell almost immediately.

"What is it?" Lissa asked as the butterflies turned more to dread.

He shook his head. "I seriously just wanted one day away with you. And we can't even get that."

Lissa looked over to where he was glaring and spied just exactly what she didn't want to see.

At first, she wasn't quite sure if it was him or not, with the casual clothes, incognito baseball cap, and dark sunglasses. But he was close enough for them to hear him laughing, and that laugh was unmistakably Wesley.

One of the Selected was with him, wearing a bright yellow sundress. Lissa was pretty sure it was Lady Iris. They were flanked by three plain-clothed guards trying to look inconspicuous, along with Elvira. Wesley was holding a guidebook, and following Iris, who was talking to him excitedly. He had his phone out, and they stood with the background of one of the skyscrapers behind him, taking selfies with ridiculous faces.

Somewhere in her heart, felt a twinge, seeing him out with someone else, smiling and laughing. Like _they_ used to be. She didn't want to feel it, but it was there all the same.

Only now he was him and she was her and they were different people but it still-

It still hurt.

"What should we do?" she asked Joseph

"We could run away, pretend like we didn't see them?" He had already put his sunglasses down and was trying to look normal as they turned away from the group to hide better.

There was that feeling again, the one that Lissa didn't know if she wanted to take matters into her own hands and forget about Wesley, even if it meant staying at the palace, or if she wanted to run away and never see him again, or maybe she wanted to be reminded of him every day and never forget him even if she couldn't have him.

She was never going to forget. She was always going to love the color of his eyes, and she was probably always going to search for someone with the same contagious effect that Wesley had on her. She didn't think she was ever fully going to get over him, the way he walked, the way he talked, the way he smelled like Christmas. There were still going to be those times when all the regret and pain and came rushing back, no matter how much hoping and wishing she did.

She was going to miss him with all her heart.

But she was going to be _okay._

Lissa looked at Joseph. "I honestly don't care if he sees us or not. Is it going to cost you your job or anything?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so."

She risked a glance over her shoulder. Even across the street, Elvira had most definitely seen them, judging by her smirk, but so far, Iris and Wesley seemed clueless.

Unfortunately, Wesley chose that exact moment to spot the ice cream parlor that they were standing right outside of. Lissa turned away as fast as possible so he wouldn't recognize her.

(Okay, so she did care.)

"Did he see us?" Joseph pressed.

"I don't know!"

"ARE THOSE MY SHORTS?"

The shout came from across the street, followed by a car laying on its horn. Lissa whirled around to see Wesley almost get hit by a car as he dashed across the street, attracting more than a few stares from passersbys. Elvira followed right behind him, with a look that could kill, ordering the cars to stop by holding up her hand.

Joseph was starting to turn that delightful shade of red again, only this time there was what might have been princely usurpation in his eyes. People around them were starting to notice what was happening, and Lissa could see them eyeing Wesley and Iris.

"AYYY!" Wesley yelled at the top of his lungs. "JOE! What the hell are you doing with my shorts!"

"You took his shorts?" Lissa gave her date an incredulous look.

Joseph held up his hands in protest. "He wasn't going to wear them! He said they were stupid!"

Wesley reached them, and by then, Lissa could see some of the people around them were taking pictures of him, and she could hear murmurs of "Prince Wesley". Iris and the rest of the guards caught up by then, and the Selected girl was looking nervous and upset.

It was only then that Wesley seemed to notice that Lissa accompanied the shorts-stealer. He stopped in all his slightly misplaced rage and met her eyes. The anger in his body language spiked as he looked btween her and Joseph-

Still holding hands-

For the second time that day, Lissa snatched her hand back. And it only made Wesley angrier.

"I could have you fired," Wesley snarled at Joseph. One of the official cars from the palace pulled up, next to them, and two police cars were stopping traffic. Now everyone who was around was staring at them, and more people were noticing.

Joseph looked like he was trying really hard not to hit Wesley. "You weren't going to wear them," he said through clenched teeth. The guards were now getting a worried Iris into the car.

"Does that give you the right to wear my stuff? Are you even supposed to be off right now?"

"Does it matter? You're not even there!" Joseph retorted, not backing off. Lissa grabbed his arm in an attempt to pull him off, but he shook her off.

Wesley paused only to take a deep breath. "ITS STILL YOUR JOB!"

"You said it yourself, you don't need a valet!"

"You're right, I don't. You're fired." Wesley assumed his prince-tone and straightened his shoulders. He looked around and seemed to realize the crowd they had drawn.

"Wes, please-" Lissa stepped forward. Wesley looked at her, and the fight seemed to deflate out of him. Elvira and the guards were now clearing people away, now flashing her palace-identification

There were a million things that Wesley could have said. But what he did shattered what was left of her broken heart.

"Don't call me Wes."

It was almost as if _they_ had never happened at all.

Then there were a million things that Lissa could have said. But she didn't say anything.

Wesley didn't break eye contact as he allowed Elvira to herd him towards the car. As they got closer, Lissa could see his feet falter until he was just dragging them as Elvira took him by the arm. His balled-up fists were shaking so hard, and it was like he wasn't seeing reality anymore as he clumsily pushed his commanding officer away. Elvira grabbed his wrists, holding them in place as she spoke to him, gently.

And even from where Lissa was, she could see tears rolling down the prince's face, see his crumpled face, and how much his chest was gasping and his shoulders were shaking.

Joseph was pulling her away, out of the crowd that was taking pictures, now including several members of the paparazzi, despite the instructions of the police gathered to stop. Lissa looked over her shoulder, seeing Elvira stuff Wesley into the car, and then a few seconds it pulled away.

She did this to him.

This was her fault.

…


	12. Keep Careful Watch

**So I kind of lied about updating a ton over break…I had every intention but between life and writers block and TRANSITIONS BETWEEN SCENES this update is finally here. Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, whatever.**

 **Thanks to** Bree **for putting this story at over 100 reviews! Also to** Nameless, delovlies, Miss Kaydence, mnbvcxz-xx **and** RunawayGirl8125 **for your reviews. This chapter is dedicated to my bae** delovies **for reviewing every single chapter so far, with** Nameless **and** Miss Kaydence **just behind her!**

 **I'm not sure if the ball will be next chapter or the one after, but we'll get to that. Break's not over yet! I also love reviews (don't we all)!**

 **-shades**

…

Perhaps having a group date hadn't been the best idea.

Perhaps having a Selection hadn't been the best idea.

Perhaps all of this was just a huge mistake.

Wesley set his _actual teacup_ down as quietly as possible, but it rattled against the saucer like a bell, causing all three of his dates to look up.

Alyex met his gaze, and offered a warm smile that showed him that she was feeling just as awkward as he was. Veyra smirked at him, and flicked her black hair out of her ideas. She stirred her own tea again, but so far hadn't drank any yet. Those two acted like it was endearingly funny that he was such a klutz when it came to teacups.

Georgia, on the other hand, didn't.

The blonde fixed Wesley with a look over the brim of her own cup, raising her impeccable eyebrows and making him want to grove and beg for her forgiveness for clacking the china.

Still, to continue with the general theme of the date so far, no one said anything.

Veyra leaned back in her chair, and Wesley could see her surveying the third-floor tea room that, according to Nicole, was the perfect location for a date.

Except that it wasn't.

Due to Ethan's suggestion, Wesley had decided to go on a date with three of the girls to speed things up a bit, and to move the attention of the press off a certain clip of him screaming at his valet in downtown Los Angeles and then having a full-blown panic attack in front of fan-favorite and Angeles native Lady Iris Tanaka.

There was also the part where he nearly got hit by a car, tried to fire Joseph over _shorts_ , and yelled at a really reallyreallyreallyreallyreally nice girl. Not to forget the honorable mention to him losing it and freaking out and crying like a little girl because he couldn't seem to keep in touch with reality anymore.

Yep.

Now recorded on video by many different people and reporters, and forever immortalized! The media had been talking of nothing else for the few days, despite his attempts to move their attention off with announcing the Victory Ball in a few days and going on dates with some of the ladies.

Because he wasn't in charge of the staff, his firing of Joseph had been overruled (thanks mom) and his valet was still picking out his clothes. Except Wesley was pretty sure that they were getting worse and worse and he had to check then for lethal injections or what have you. If looks could kill, Joseph would have already murdered him-twice.

Actually, more like a thousand times. Annoyingly, he still did his job perfectly and respectfully, and there was no good reason to fire him except that the hate was mutual.

And he was also dating Lissa, but that was-

Okay?

That was beside the point, Wesley told himself. Irrelevant.

There were three perfectly good girls sitting here in the tea room waiting for him to say something and date them up. On second thought, Georgia might be waiting to kill him or something. He remembered what Lady Vera Montgomery had said about her, and how her background just didn't add up. The poster girl of rebel propaganda who had been hailed as a national hero for spying in Yukon for the monarchy during the civil war. Vera had used the term "sketchy", but Wesley preferred "don't clink the teacups or I'll kill you with my eyebrows".

Then there was Veyra, not to be confused with Vera-the-barefoot-skirt-holder who still insisted on calling him "Old Wesley" after their encounter the other day. She wasn't here today, on account of Wesley would probably have mixed up their names every time and they would send _him_ home.

Veyra preferred the term "secret agent", but in Wesley's mind she was a spy like Georgia. Officially, she worked for the Illean Special Reconnaissance Agency, so there wasn't any doubt about her loyalty. She had light bronze skin, dark, almond shaped eyes, wore her black hair in a sleek ponytail, her side bangs hiding her eyes that were constantly scanning the room and its occupants. She was cool, though.

They made eye contact over the table, and Veyra's smirk deepened.

"So," she began, picking up one of the many tea-cake-things that littered the table in elaborate displays, "this is nice."

Wesley hastily set his cup back down, causing Georgia to fix him with another stare. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, and nodded vigorously.

"Isn't it?" His voice came out too loud and too hyper, and it seemed to echo throughout the room.

"This is good tea," Lady Alyex said. She peered at him out of wide, hooded eyes that weren't quite blue and weren't quite green. Her voice was pitched slightly deeper than the other girls and she had the same seemingly built-in ballerina grace as both of his brother's wives. Combined, this gave her a certain air of maturity. Maybe she could pull him out of this horror show of a group date.

Veyra answered around a mouthful of crumbs. "I don't really like tea, though," she said with a shrug.

"Oh, right. Coffee," Wesley stammered. "Coffee. Coffee for the spy."

This time, Georgia clacked _her_ teacup loudly against her saucer. Wesley glanced at her. Her expression didn't change, aside from a slight further raise of her eyebrow.

"I'm not exactly a spy," Veyra corrected, casting Georgia a timid look. "Not really."

"Right. Agent. Not a spy. Right." Wesley winced at his babbling.

Veyra smiled appreciative, and as quickly as it had ended, the silence began again.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He was just so _stupid._

The ladies all kept their eyes on their tea. For someone who usually never ran out of things to say, Wesley was at a total loss for words, and the unwillingness of the rest of the party was making it worse.

Georgia was watching him again.

Her brown eyes seemed to take in his every move, and she pursed her lips slightly. The draped neckline of her wine-colored velvet dress began just off her shoulders, and fitted down her arms before ending in cloth-covered buttons below the elbow. Her fingers drummed on the table cloth.

It was like she was hunting him.

Whether she was or not, that overwhelming feeling of _flight_ overtook Wesley.

Run. Run. Run.

Don't get caught.

Don't look back.

Elvira was telling him these things as they crouched by the door of the hanger. At the end of the runway there was a plane—one that hadn't been overrun by rebels yet.

Only between them and possible safety was an entire empty expanse of hanger and runway.

Nowhere to hide.

Just run.

It was still hard to hear after the explosion had temporarily deafened him. Louder than anything and everything the rebels were doing was the thrum of his heartbeat pounding in his head.

Elvira and Drake were silent, and that made it all the worse.

Someone should be saying something, just _something._

If they were about to die, this wasn't how he wanted it to begin.

Stop.

This wasn't real. This had already happened. Wesley wasn't in the rebel attacked airport in Denbeigh or wherever the memory was.

Go away. _Make it stop._

Wesley's dress shirt was starting to stick uncomfortably to his skin underneath his suit jacket as he broke out in sweat. The silence continued unabated.

He reached for his cup again, but his hands were shaking now. Wesley clenched his jaw, and picked up the teacup and saucer, demanding his hands to hold still.

It was no use. The cup jittered on the saucer, and tea sloshed over the rim, soaking his sleeves and spilling on his pants.

The hot liquid seeped through the fabric, and by then, no matter how deep of a breath he took, it was like there wasn't enough oxygen in the world.

They were running across the tarmac.

His lungs heaved in the freezing air, his heart pounded to keep up with his feet.

He was just a step behind Elvira and Drake. The cold made his ears ache and his throat sore as he sucked in lungsful of frigid air.

Like the glass windows that had shattered in the explosion, the world around them shattered.

He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew without a doubt they had been spotted. At first, he didn't realize what the bullets were as they smacked into the pavement around them. He didn't really have time to think anyway. There was a dim realization of Elvira and Drake shooting behind them as they ran, but it didn't occur to him to fight back.

Only to run.

No where to hide.

The air was smashed from his lungs. It was still cold.

There was some part that was warm-

His chest was on fire-

He didn't realize that he was on the ground until the cold surface met his face.

Someone grabbed his arm-

God, that hurt.

Stop. Please stop!

The next thing he knew his coat was being unbuttoned.

It hurt.

They were in the plane. Was it moving?

Drake was kneeling over him. His friend's mouth was moving, but he didn't know what he was saying. His hands were covered in blood. It covered his sleeves. Was he okay?

There was warmth seeping through the fabric of his uniform.  
It hurt so much. Make it stop!  
Drake? He couldn't get his voice to work.

Are you there?

Drake?

Please don't leave me!

" _You're really the best, you know that?" she whispered as he grabbed her hand and tiptoed up to the third floor, creeping up the stairs like a ninja even though it was just a game of sardines._

" _Yeah, I know," he said as they came to the landing. Empty._

" _Shoot, they're not hiding up here." Panicking, he turned and ran down the stairs._

" _It's not a matter of life or death!" she called after him, laughing._

STOP!  
Wesley slammed the teacup on the table, ignoring the further spillage. He pushed the memories away, but they grabbed hold of him and seemed to pull him under.

The eyes of all three girls were all on him, looking startled.

"Let's play sardines."

They looked at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was.

"Excuse me?" Georgia finally spoke up. She arched her eyebrow up at him. Her voice was softer than he thought it might have been. Like she was genuinely confused.

"You heard me. Sardines! I'll go get the kids, it'll be fun!"

Veyra finished off her tea with a loud slurp. "I'm game!" she said, standing up. Alyex still looked a bit nervous as she stood up, smoothing her hands over her champagne lace dress.

"You guys can just leave your shoes in here, if you want. Third floor only, no bedrooms. Come on!" Wesley said so fast the words strung together.

Verya laughed excitedly, and unzipped her black ankle boots and kicked them off.

"Let's go!" she cried, nudging Alyex.

"I think Evie and Sophie might be in their lessons now, but I can get the boys," Wesley said. "Someone might have to carry Jamie, but they've been bugging me for weeks to hang out with them anyway."

Alyex was starting to blush a little, but she also shed her high heels, looking more excited at the mention of the royal kids.

"Well if they're playing I definitely have to," she laughed softly.

"What about you, Georgia?" Veyra asked, grabbing one more cookie for the road.

Then once again it was silent. They all looked at Georgia.

She was still seated, but Wesley could tell he had unsettled her. Her mouth dropped open a little, but she quickly closed it and stood up. She tilted her head in the air, and pursed her lips together.

"Fine," she said, her voice haughty. She spoke quietly, so they all had to pay more attention to hear her. But it wasn't a timid sort of speaking. It was powerful.

"I didn't imagine I'd ever be playing a game of hide and seek at the palace, but I guess you never know."

"It's not hide and seek, it's sardines. Only one person hides." Wesley corrected her as he kicked off his own uncomfortable dress shoes. "What are we waiting for?" He could still feel his heart racing in his chest, and his skin was clammy with lingering sweat, but the memories were leaving him alone for now.

Wesley didn't wait to see if the ladies followed him, he just left, running down the central hallway of the third floor in his socks, opening the doors to the rooms that weren't bedrooms or that opened to the suites of rooms of the royal family. He kidnapped Jamie and Aidan from their nannies in their bedrooms, but he avoided Evie and Sophie's nursery.

When Jamie was safely deposited with Alyex carrying him, they sent Veyra off to hide first. Georgia wasn't being subtle, still in her clacking high heels, but then again, none of them were. Aidan was designated as Wesley's sardine buddy, and the four-year old was giggling like a maniac as they raced around the third floor in pursuit of Veyra. Jamie was loudly directing Alyex where to look, and pointing and laughing as she carried him around.

In the end, it was none of them who found her, as the sound of barking drew them to the stairs down to the second floor pretty much all at the same time. Veyra was no where to be seen, but they could hear her shushing Finn and Jack, the Shreave Pups, as they announced Veyra's presences to literally everyone.

"I guess they gave me away," she said.

Wesley didn't see her right away, until he looked up. Veyra was actually dangling off the chandelier right before the stairs.

"Are you insane?" he cried, most astonished than worried. "Or do you have superpowers?"

Veyra gathered up the skirt of her knee-length black dress, and before Wesley could scream at her to stop, she was on the ground, flipping the hair off her face and doing that smirk as she saw his jaw hanging open.

As soon as her strange behavior ended, Finn and Jack started wagging their tails. Veyra petted them excitedly. "I guess they're telling me I'm not behaving appropriately," she teased.

"Okay…you are officially, like, the coolest person I've ever met," Wesley said. "Also, the bravest because that was incredibly dangerous."

Veyra playfully rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's dangerous. That's why it's fun! It would have worked too, except the dogs didn't like it very much."

"That was awesome," Wesley managed. "You have to show me how to do that sometime,"

Veyra's smile got even wider. "You're on, Shreave."

"I want to go next!" Jamie interrupted, "can the dogs play?"

"If they want to!" Wesley shrugged, and gave Jack a pat on the head. The two new furry players joined as Alyex and Jamie went off to hide.

"Hey, you know you're supposed to stay away from the other players!" Veyra taunted as Wesley and Aidan followed her around looking for Alyex.

"Yeah, well you're a secret agent!" Wesley defended. "We're picking up tips!"

She grinned, her dark eyes sparkling. "Maybe I already know exactly where they are,"

Georgia joined them, looking a bit flustered—and frowning. "Then can you tell us? This is getting boring."

Veyra flashed her a cheeky smile. "You're supposed to be having fun. That's the point."

"Thanks, I know." Georgia said, standing there like a rock.

"Since both of you were spies, you should cream me and Aidan at this round," Wesley commented.

Georgia raised both eyebrows at him, and did that lip tightening thing again. She made him feel worthless for about five seconds before leaving without a word.

"I'm an agent, Wesley!" Veyra reminded him.

Aidan tugged on his pants. "Hey, Uncle Wesley, are we playing or not?" he whined.

"Sorry, kiddo, I got distracted." Wesley grabbed his nephew's hand and they ran down the hall. He glanced over his shoulder, finding Veyra watching them, one hip cocked and that smirk on her face. Catching him looking back, she wiggled her fingers in a sassy wave.

Wesley quickly turned back towards Aidan. "Where haven't we looked yet?"

"In here," Aidan dragged him into one of the many useless sitting rooms, and then began yanking back the floor-length curtains over the windows. Wesley heard quiet, Jamie-like giggling coming from behind one of the sofas. He poked Aidan, and then jerked his head in the direction of the noise.

They approached from each end of the sofa, jumping to surprise the hiders. Alyex held her finger to her lips to tell them to be quiet as she pulled Jamie on her lap to make more room as Wesley squeezed between the sofa and the wall.

"Pull your feet in!" Alyex whispered. "They're sticking out!"

"I can't help it!" Wesley whispered back. His knees were practically in his face in the small space.

Alyex pulled him by his pant legs back, and he ended up one leg crossed over the other in basically a pretzel, with his ankles sticking out. She stifled a giggle behind her hand, her brownish-blonde hair covering her face as she leaned forward.

"We good?"

"I think so," she whispered back, on the verge of laughter at his ridiculous position.

"Shhhhh!" Aidan hissed-louder than they had been.

Alyex tapped Wesley's ankle, right on his socks.

"What is that?" She tittered.

"It's a flamingo!"

"Why does it have a mustache?" Alyex's delicate features twisted in effort to keep from bursting into laughter.

"It's just my socks!" Wesley said, louder than he intended. Aidan and Jamie hushed them again, but Alyex was beyond staying quiet, and his ridiculous socks weren't helping her stop laughing. Pretty soon, he was laughing too.

"You know, you guys aren't as quiet as you think you are," Georgia's voice sounded from the door.

"Hurry up and get back here before Veyra comes!" Wesley poked his head above the sofa. Georgia rolled her eyes, but hurried over to the hiding place. She glared at him twisted up like a pretzel and Alyex giggling until her face was red, and the boys shushing them louder than the older ones, and chose to hide behind the curtains nearby.

It took Veyra several more minutes to find them, but they could hear her looking all around for them where she had last seen Georgia, and her angry, expletive filled muttering soon had most of them cracking up, so she found them pretty easily. The boys were mad, and Georgia was still grumpy, but Wesley and Alyex were all but crying from trying not to laugh and utterly failing.

"You guys would be massacred in the ISRA," Veyra shook her head at them as they clambered from the hiding place. "They would kick you out so fast!"

"But his socks!" Alyex said, breathless for laughter, her cheeks pink. "Flamingos with mustaches!"

"I'll have you know that I'm a prince and I can wear whatever I please. Besides my valet hates them…and me."

Georgia made some noise in between a snort and a scoff and Wesley didn't have to look at her to know he was getting The Judgement Stare.

"Isn't it your turn to hide? Since you found Alyex first?" she said, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Yeah, it is. Come on, Aidan, we're going to beat these girls so bad!"

Aidan crossed his arms defiantly over his chest. "No! You laugh too much! I want to go with Lady Veyra. She's cool."

Wesley met Veyra's eyes over the head of the impatient prince. The black-haired girl grinned, and that sparkle in her eyes was back.

"Well if that's what Prince Aidan wants, that's what he gets," she said, ruffling the little boy's blond hair. "You can hang with me. I'm a professional."

"You guys are never going to find me," Wesley taunted as he ran off.

Things were getting okay again.

He remembered playing in the palace plenty of times with his siblings, usually obliging him because he was four years younger than Ethan and it went up from there with Andrew and Michelle. They had played more at Trentworth, but there were still plenty of unused spaces all over the palace.

And he knew just the spot.

There were at least three practically empty libraries on the third floor, small rooms for study or whatever. No one ever used them because they usually had something similar in their respective suites, but they were everywhere.

Wesley ducked into one of the smallest ones, the one with the domed white ceiling and the dark wood paneling. He made a beeline straight for the fireplace. Of course, they never had fires inside in Angeles, but architecturally they were nice. He ducked into the small space, and leaned his back against one side, bracing with his feet to wiggle his way out of sight. Once he got high enough, he knew from experience there was a ledge where the mantle part got skinnier that he could sit on and pull his legs up.

Not long after, he could hear the (not so quiet) sounds of his dates, nephews, and dogs looking for him. Wesley held is breath when he heard Alyex and Jamie come into the library.

"Do you think he's in here?" Alyex asked Jamie, her voice soft.

"Yeah!" the two-year old crowed. "Under the table!"

Alyex went through the process a few more times, allowing Jamie to tell her where to look. Even though Wesley couldn't see them, there was this _feeling_ in the back of his mind that made his insides turn just a little bit mushy to hear her interact with one of the kids that way.

But he couldn't shake the way it reminded him of Lissa.

Soon they were gone, though he could hear Aidan and Veyra not too far away. After a while, his legs started to fall asleep, so he let them dangle off the edge of the ledge. It would be a while before they started giving up, and then he could slip out and hide somewhere in plain sight.

That's why he was kinda surprised when suddenly he wasn't alone in the fireplace anymore.

"Saw your socks hanging out," Georgia said, her eyes glinting in the shadows.

"How did you find me?" Wesley demanded.

"Be quiet, will you? I thought you wanted to win," Georgia whispered. "Where do I hide?"

Wesley held out his hand. "Jump, and I'll pull you up."

When they were both on the ledge, this time careful to keep their legs up out of sight. The ledge was narrow, and the space even tither, so he ended up his thigh pressed against Georgia's, and their shoulders touching.

"Nice spot," she whispered.

"I didn't even hear you come in."

"You were listening for my shoes, but I ditched them. Veyra's not the only one with tricks up her sleeve."

He might have imagined it, but Georgia sounded the tiniest bit sad about that. He turned to look at her, and found their faces very close.

Yikes.

He shifted as far away as he could, but there wasn't much room.

"You're pretty cool too. I just was under the impression you didn't like me, so I didn't want to make too many jokes."

Georgia was quiet for a moment.

"You're alright."

"Thanks."

"But isn't that what you do anyways? Make jokes?"

Wesley rested his chin on his bent-up knees. Sitting here had been a lot easier when he was a kid. A lot of things had been easier then, though.

"Not anymore."

Georgia nodded, and shifted her weight so they weren't pressed against each other's sides as much.

He didn't mean to think it.

But suddenly he remembered talking to Lady Vera, and how she had questioned Georgia's loyalty. That maybe her cover as a spy for the monarchy was just a really good lie. Maybe she was really that girl on rebel propaganda. Maybe she was here to kill him.

The feeling was back.

No matter how deep of a breath he took, it was like there wasn't enough oxygen in the world.

Sweaty and clammy all at the same time.

It wasn't Drakes's blood that was all over his hands. That was all over his coat, the floor,the cockpit. Drake wasn't the one who couldn't breathe, he was breathing just fine, shouting to Elvira. Drake wasn't the one screaming. Drake wasn't the one bleeding, because he hadn't been the one shot.

It was him.

His lungs weighed a ton. Was he even breathing? Was his heart still beating or was that where he'd been shot?

Am I going to die?

Am I already dead?

 _No._

Wesley pushed back at the memories, pushed them far away. Georgia was staring at him.

Yep.

Her eyebrows were doing that thing again.

"You okay?"

Wesley wanted to tell her not really. Not at all. But he just couldn't.

"I'm alright."

Georgia's face remained blank, and then her lips formed into the smallest of smiles, though her eyes remained cold as ever.

He still wasn't sure if this was one huge mistake or not.


	13. A Whole Lotta History

**Hello everyone, hope everyone is having a good back to school and not freezing to death! I decided I needed one more chapter before the ball for the sake of fluff, so here's a happy chapter. Dedicated to my side chicks who help me with everything from boy problems to picking ball gowns, Paige and Amanda (AKA** Sora Kalopsia **and** bibliophile609 **)! They helped me with much of the content in this chapter too.**

 **Thank you for reviewing,** delovlies, RunawayGirl 8125, mnbvcxz-xx, Nameless, Miss Kaydence, Sora Kalopsia **, and** suicideblonde99 **!**

 **The next chapter (and probably the one after that) is going to be the Victory Ball, so if anyone wants to send me ball gowns and stuff for their girl on Pinterest (or anyway else) please do so! I have a whole board dedicated to it, with lots of stuff to choose from (you can just comment on the one you want if you want), or you can find one yourself, if you want! I'm happy to choose one too, if you don't care, haha.**

 **(My Pinterest details are on my FF profile)**

 **Please review!**

 **-Shades**

…

Lissa could smell the cupcakes as soon as she entered the lobby of Gracie's apartment building. Her suspicions were further proved when her best friend opened her door in athletic shorts and a flannel shirt Lissa was pretty sure was Damian's, everything entirely covered with a fine layer of powdered sugar.

Her three dogs surrounded her, with wagging tails and excited barking to see her. There was the big dark brown Newfoundland, appropriately named Brownie, the gawky still-half-puppy golden retriever Cookie, and the mottled black, white, and tan mutt that was, of course, called Cupcake.

"Hey! Come to help me bake?" Gracie chirped, oblivious to the icing in her hair.

Lissa fought back the hounds, and held up her phone, fighting back the urge to capture the moment on her camera. "Is that what we're doing? Because you texted me saying you needed me for an emergency sleepover in all caps."

"Oh! Yeah, well, I needed you to help me bake all these cupcakes. Damo's gone tonight with Colin on another official prime minister business trip, and tomorrow is our 4 years and six months anniversary, so _naturally_ —"

Lissa ducked back down into the welcoming committee and let them snuffle all over her as she pet them. "And this wouldn't have anything to do with the Victory Ball in two days, would it? Or Wesley's Selection? Or anything to with Wesley? Or the fact that now my dating life is plastered all over the media?"

Gracie cocked her head to the side innocently, sending a few sprinkles to the ground. "Of course not!"

Lissa rolled her eyes playfully at her friend as she moved past her into Gracie and Damian's living room and tossed her stuff onto the couch. "So, despite the fact that you send me literally five hundred messages after the news started playing that clip of Wesley, tonight has nothing to do with that?"

Gracie headed to the large kitchen behind the couch that dominated the apartment. Every inch of available counter space was covered with baking implements and cooling pans of cupcakes.

"Actually, yes! Where did you find that hottie you were with? I mean, like, if you're trying to make Wes jealous, girl you are on the right path!"

"I'm not! I swear!" Lissa cried. She pulled her short hair back into what sort of resembled a ponytail and joined Gracie in the kitchen.

"Oh, sure. You just happened to be on a date at the exact same time he was?" Gracie nudged her in the ribs and turned to the oven to pull out yet another pan of cupcakes.

"It was just a coincidence! Joseph planned it all, anyway." Lissa grabbed a bowl of pink frosting, and stuck her finger in it, before Gracie snatched it away from her, and fitted it back on the mixer.

"Stop! You're supposed to be helping me, not eating and making excuses!"

"I promise, I was just on a simple date, nothing to do with Wesley—"

Gracie switched on the mixer, not breaking eye contact with Lissa. "What? I can't hear you!"

Lissa tried not to smile, and failed miserably and ended up bursting into laughter.

"Why are you making all of these?" she shouted over the mixer.

Gracie switched it off, and reached for the bag of powdered sugar and dumped more in. "I told you, it's our four years and six months anniversary!"

"Do you celebrate every month?"

"Just every year and a half," Gracie said, scooping the frosting from the bowl into a pastry bag. "Maybe one of these times he'll get it into his head that I am totally ready for a marriage proposal."

"Oooooh!" Lissa poked Gracie in the stomach and took the opportunity to reach around her to grab a bag of chocolate chips.

"I mean, we've talked about it, but I think Damian's waiting for the right moment. He's such an idiot sometimes, I don't know why I put up with his beating around the bush."

"Well, two messed up proposals would be a record, now wouldn't they?" Lissa teased, munching on a handful of chocolate chips. "Sometimes I still can't believe _you_ turned Ethan down."

"Tell me about it," Gracie mumbled, "Damian said no more dogs. Three is apparently enough, but I really, really need to collect the whole set by having one named Pie." She took back the chocolate chips and replaced it with a bowl of batter into Lissa's hands. "Fill that pan up, please, instead of eating my ingredients."

Lissa grinned and shook her head at her best friend, and did as she was told, listening to Gracie's chatter about her week.

"I almost didn't recognize you when the news started playing all those clips, I'm so used to you having long hair," Gracie said. "And your boy is really, really attractive-"

"Joseph's not _my boy_ , we literally went on one date—okay, two," Lissa interrupted.

"Oh, so Joseph, is it? Where did you find him?" Gracie pressed as she expertly frosted cupcake after cupcake with a tower of pink frosting.

Lissa knew she couldn't hide anything from Gracie, so she might as well fess up. Besides, why did this bother her so much? She liked Joseph, and there was no reason to be embarrassed about him.

"He's Wesley's valet," she said quickly.

Gracie paused her frosting to look at Lissa and rolled her lips together. "Ah, you sure know how to hit a guy close to home."

"Graaaaccceee," Lissa warned. "I told you, that's not what I'm doing. And besides, I'm pretty sure one of the stipulations of me coming over was to not talk about this? It's not a big deal, it's between him and Wesley, and I have nothing to do with what happened."

"Okay, fine. I hope you know you're no fun," Gracie joked. "So, have you met any of the Selected yet? They remind me so much of us when Ethan's started!"

Lissa crossed the kitchen to deposit the pan she had been filling in the oven, and nearly tripped over Brownie, sprawled across the floor.

"A few of them. Evie and Sophie adore them, but they could care less about me. Hey, where were you when I needed you the other day when I was stuck in the Woman's Room? I sent you like a million texts to save me!"

Gracie met her eyes, and her cheeks turned pink. "Um, well-"

"Never mind, I'm not sure I really want to know," Lissa giggled. "So, which of the girls do you like?"

"I only met some of them at the reception, so I'm hoping to meet more of them at the Victory Ball. I mean, I'm obviously trash for Lady Fallon because we're both Atlin babes. I didn't get to talk to her for more than like two seconds, though. I introduced myself, and she had to excuse herself."

"I've been seeing her all over the news. What's up with that?"

"She's from the Berlin family, and she has a lot of fans from modeling, and all of that really makes her popular with the secessionist provinces. Except now they're saying that Wesley's been ignoring her, so her supporters are getting touchy."

"I'm sure with all of the girls, he just hasn't had the time," Lissa shrugged. "I remember how chaotic it was it first."

"He did send fourteen girls home on the first day," Gracie brushed the errant strands of blonde, sugar-covered hair off her forehead and looked at Lissa. "It show's he's committed."

She pressed her lips together in a smile. "Well, I hope he finds happiness. We were such great friends when we were younger, and…yeah." The words sounded so foreign, almost like she was someone else.

She thought back to sunny days at Trentworth when the Selection had been temporarily moved to the seaside estate after the first rebel attack during Ethan's Selection that sparked the rebellion movement. She and Wesley would sneak away from the others to avoid being caught hanging out together. She remembered running down to the beach in the middle of the night, and him dancing crazily with her on the sand under the stars. He had almost kissed her then but had decided to wait, only to spontaneously kiss her when she was least expecting it a few days later. She'd pushed him a fountain in the garden in retaliation, and Wesley had pulled her in after him and kissed her some more.

Thinking back on those days left her heart warm and fuzzy, and a delicious feeling of happiness spread over her as she remembered.

It ended just as quickly when Gracie pulled her back to reality.

"You still care for him, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, I don't want him to end up miserable and alone," Lissa said quickly. "He's a nice guy." She snatched one of the frosted cupcakes and peeled back the liner before Gracie could stop her.

"Girl, if you keep eating all my hard work you're not going to fit into your gown for the ball!" Gracie chided her, shaking her head. Mercifully, she dropped the Wesley subject.

"Aha, perks of a governess! I get to wear a blazer to hide anything, which means I also don't have to wear a strapless bra, and I can leave as soon as it's Evie and Sophie's bedtime."

"What!" Gracie exclaimed. "You're kidding, right? You can't wear a blazer to a ball! It's white-tie, for the sake of all things cake!"

Lissa took a giant bite out of the cupcake. "As an employee on duty, while I'm there, it's considered professional. I asked Joanna, and since she's going to be on duty making sure everything goes smoothly, she said she's wearing one too over her dress."

"Yes, but Joanna's the housekeeper of the palace. She makes sure that the entire palace keeps on functioning, and she isn't made to enjoy balls. You, on the other hand, are. What else are you wearing?"

Lissa shrugged and stuffed another bite of cupcake in her mouth. "I have the dress I wore to the reception or the dress I wore to dinner. Or I could borrow one of yours, I guess."

"Um, yeah, you're going to have to, because you can't wear those over-glorified maxi-dresses to a ball!" Gracie all but shrieked, emphasizing her words with her frosting covered spatula, sending pink all over the counter and floor. Cookie the dog was happy to lick it up until Gracie shooed him away and started to wipe it all up.

"Gracie, this is beginning to sound like Cinderella, except the prince is my ex-boyfriend-who-I-couldn't-ever-actually-lawfully-date, and my current kinda boyfriend is his valet."

"Wait, Joesph's your kinda-boyfriend?" Gracie cried. "You said you only went on two dates!"

"I don't exactly qualify sitting together at breakfast and dinner for the upper staff a date…" Lissa offered. "And he's never actually like asked me, but you know me, how does all that stuff work anyway?"

Gracie pulled her phone out of her shorts pocket and began to type frantically. "Never mind, that's beside the point. The point is that you don't have a gown for the ball, and you need one because you have a kinda-boyfriend and Wesley will be there."

"Wesley doesn't have to do with any of this!" Lissa cried, abandoning the cupcake preparation and moving back into the living room to flop on Gracie's couch. "What are you doing anyway?"

"If you're staying over, I'm ordering pizza, duh," Gracie held the phone to her ear with her shoulder smashed into it to hold it in place, and started cleaning up the counter as she placed the order.

So naturally, when Gracie went down to the lobby twenty minutes later to retrieve the pizza, Lissa didn't think anything of it; she just stayed on the couch flicking through the channels to find a chick flick they could watch when she got back.

It was a bit of a shock when Gracie returned with a sunglasses and hoodie draped figure, who immediately threw a pink-filled garment bag overtop of her.

"What the?" Lissa sputtered, pushing the plastic off. The person removed her sunglasses and pulled off her hood, revealing Nicole's familiar blonde highlighted chestnut hair.

"I hear we have a fashion crisis going on," Nicole said, grinning. "Do you realize how hard it is to sneak out of the palace on short notice?"

Gracie set the pizzas down on the coffee table and propped her hands on her hips. "Since you insist on wearing an outfit that doesn't require a strapless bra, I had to get back up."

"Guys, come on, I'm a governess, I have to wear that!" Lissa exclaimed, crawling out from the garment bag and standing up. "What is this, anyway?"

"As your now-official fairy godmothers, my dear, you shall go to the ball!" Nicole giggled and reached for the garment bag.

"In this. Not in a blazer. I'm not sure you can even wear any type of bra with this one." Gracie added. Nicole slipped the dress out of the bag and held it up for Lissa.

She had to admit, it took her breath away. The palest blush pink wispy tulle, strapless, covered with gorgeous, delicate flower petals trailing their way down the fitted waist, and flaring out ever so slightly to the floor. The hem was hiked up in the front to the ankle, and slightest train trailed out from the hem in the back.

It was a gown fit for a princess.

"It's lovely…" she breathed, running her fingers over the silk flowers. "It looks like…"

"The gown you wore to the birthday masquerade party all those years ago? Yeah, that's what we thought too!" Gracie squealed. "I hope you don't mind, I'm wearing pink too."

"Babe, we wouldn't expect anything else from you. Besides, mine is too," Nicole added, her hand going to her stomach, her tiny baby-bump hidden underneath the incognito hoodie. "I just hope I don't puke my way through it. I swear this baby is trouble."

"Hopefully these fit too," Gracie produced a shoebox from the bag Nicole had brought and handed it to Lissa. She removed the lid and found a matching pair of delicate heels, open-toed with a strap at the ankle.

Lissa could hardly find the words to say as she stared at the beautiful things, produced in the time it took to order a pizza. "Ohmigosh, guys! Where did you get these?"

Her friends exchanged a glance.

"Um, okay. So don't freak out, but we kinda stole it." Gracie mumbled, knitting her hands together.

"What?" Lissa cried. "What do you mean you stole it? Gracie, that's larceny!"

"Not if we don't get caught, it's not!" Gracie fired back. "You totally deserve it more!"

"She has no idea, it was one of the dresses that her maids had for her to wear to another event. I'm a princess now, I do what I want." Nicole said. "We didn't exactly steal it."

"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse, but…I can't exactly turn it down…" Lissa admitted. "Who did you steal it from?"

"Lady Eleanor. You guys are the same size and we figured since you guys are both from Tammins it kind of evens out!" Gracie said happily. "Now can you please go try it on? She has a dress for the ball already, she has no idea we took this one. Nicole just asked her maids if she could see some of her dresses, and they said yes. No biggie."

Lissa sighed deeply, but she just couldn't resist the dress. Besides, Lady Eleanor was the one who had _her_ necklace. It would have gone perfectly with this dress, too.

"Okay, fine. You win, you horrible criminals." She took the dress from Nicole, and the shoes from Gracie, and went into the bathroom to change.

When she came back out, she knew there was no way she would be wearing her blazer now.

"How do I look?" She said, pulling her hair out of the ponytail and shaking it out.

"You look absolutely stunning," Nicole said. "Wesley is going to be so jealous."

"And Joseph is going to be all over you at the ball," Gracie clasped her hands together happily under her chin.

Lissa groaned. "Come on guys, this isn't about them! This is about me having something to wear, and you guys being the bestest friends in the whole world, even if you are criminals."

"Okay, you win," Gracie said.

The gasps of her friends only affirmed her decision as they took a million pictures of her and oohed and ahhed over her. She hadn't noticed at first, but the back of the dress dipped dangerously low, and it fit her torso like a glove to keep it on, clinging to her every curve. The flowers fluttered with the slightest movement, and the skirt was surprisingly light, that twirled around her with every step.

In the back of her mind, she had to admit that Nicole and Gracie's words earlier hadn't exactly been wrong. There was the tinest part of her that wanted to Wesley to see her, and maybe wanted him to see her with Joseph, and maybe be jealous. Even if she was over him and he was over her and they were both moving on.

Because deep down, she didn't want to lose him. She was terrified of losing him, and he wasn't even hers.

Lissa pushed the thoughts from her mind. "the shoes are a little big," she said, sticking them out from underneath the hem. "The heels are so tall!"

"Just make sure you don't lose one of them," Gracie winked. "I know they're not glass, but they are couture, so close enough. Cupcakes, anyone?"

…


	14. Every Lonely Place

**Despite marking on my calendar when I last updated, that still hasn't helped me update faster. Still, this is a nice long chapter to make up for some of that time! Because it's fun and I got nowhere near to what I planned for this chapter, Victory Ball shenanigans will be continued in the next chapter too, and there will be more of the Selected!**

 **I usually pin things on Pinterest to the story board (see details on my profile) but this has it's own board because I'm the worst. If you want to search for it alone, it's called "Victory Ball (Heart)"**

 **Love to my reviewers** Nameless, RunawayGirl8125, Anastasia the Goddess of Drama, delovlies, mnbvcxz-xx, **and** Miss Kaydence **(if anyone is looking for a new SYOC, check out hers called "Divided"!)**

 **To my anon guest reviewer: that you for your honest appraisal of the story! If there's too many characters for you to keep up with, I suggest you have a look at my profile, I always keep a handy chart on my profile in case you forget or get confused! If you didn't know, this is only just a story for fun. I barely do any editing except for grammar and if I was unhappy with certain scenes, this is plainly a hobby for me! This is also a sequel and both were interactive stories, so there's old characters coming back and new ones from new readers (and old). If it doesn't flow right, I suggest you find a published book to read and not a fanfiction!**

 **If anyone wants to ever plan out plot lines for their character, I'm just a PM or review away! Don't forget to review!**

 **-Shades**

…

Tonight was going to be interesting.

Wesley glowered at the three outlandish suits that Joseph had laid out for him—conveniently when he was out of his room, of course. Now his infuriating valet was nowhere to be seen, and Wesley was in the midst of a fashion crisis.

So…he might have accidentally forgotten about the Victory Ball tonight, and never actually confirmed what he was going to wear with his valet. In his defense, he had a valid excuse, between the Selection, Council meetings, and the media disaster that was himself. Somehow, there had been no coverage of the date with Georgia, Alyex, and Veyra that had turned out pretty good, yet there was practically a movie of his coffee date with Lady Piper. He had tried, he really had, but the Clermont Selected was a girl of few words. She had blushed so many times that Wesley had almost sent for the palace physician to make sure she didn't have a fever. She had a lovely smile and seemed very sweet, but that's about all he could get out of her. She had said less than five words, choosing to shrug and smile over talking.

Now, of course, the footage of it—obtained by some official palace correspondent jerk hiding in the bushes-made him look like a total spaz because it was just him rambling about nothing. He had hoped that his date with Lady Nikoli would go better, but their fancy dinner had been even more of a disaster. She disapproved him drinking wine with the meal, and explicitly told him so, which only made him drink more to get through it. She had asked the servants if there was anything she could do to help and had actually helped them clear the table when it was over, leaving Wesley sitting there like an idiot (which of course had pictorial evidence). She was a nice girl, though, and she saw the beauty in everything, especially her love of doll-making, which was what most of their conversation consisted of.

He was keeping them around, in case anything changed between them, and at least it meant two more dates were out of the way. He had sent home the girls from Baffin and Dominica after a Council meeting this morning, seeing as they had no connection and neither of the girls could stop giggling long enough to have an actual conversation with him. But Wesley's plan to hide in his room all afternoon and eat chips and salsa in bed and contemplate his pitiful existence had been rudely thrust aside by the reminder that there was a ball tonight.

And apparently, he had nothing to wear.

Wesley scowled at his options—some of which he wasn't even aware he owned—and turned around to dig through his closet, mindful that he had less than an hour to get ready and he was currently still in basically his pajamas.

His mom was less understanding.

When she arrived a few minutes later, not bothering to knock or anything, Queen Francesca's face pinched together in disapproval at the sight of him.

"Please tell me that you are not going to wear that," she said, propping her hands on her hips. Of course, his mother was already dressed and ready to go, in a high-necked dark gray gown that had enough rhinestones on it to send little reflections of light all over his bedroom, with a skirt that took up nearly his entire doorway. Her auburn hair looked freshly re-colored and was piled high in an elaborate hairstyle that must have taken hours.

"Uh…" Wesley looked down at his violently wrinkled white tee shirt, pajama pants, and flip-flops, with a half-tied tie he was trying on looped around his neck, "Hope not."

Queen Francesca sighed. " _Definitely_ not," she said, before motioning to the horrendous options from earlier. "What about these that your valet has for you?"

"Moooooom," Wesley whined, "My valet hates me! There is no way I am wearing those!"

She picked up the hanger than contained the mostly normal black one, except it had a turquoise vest and a tie to match. "What's wrong with this one?"

"Just look at it! I just want to blend in," he muttered, turned back to his many suits.

"I'm not sure that's an option, Wes. This is your Selection, and everyone will be watching you."

"This is supposed to be a ball to celebrate victory—not me," he corrected, before unearthing his navy tuxedo. "Can I just wear this?"

"I suppose…" she said, "Wesley, you need to take this seriously."

"I am!" he shot back.

"No, honey, you're not. The most emotion you've shown for the press is from downtown the other day. When you are with the Selected, you act like it's nothing. This is supposed to help restore the union of our country, but you've been ignoring the ladies from the northern provinces."

"That's not true, I went out with Lady Reese and Lady Georgia. And Alyex and Lillian!"

"What about Lady Fallon? _Everyone_ in the north loves her, and you've barely said hello to her."

"I thought the Berlin family were for secession. And didn't they finance the rebellion before that too? I should just send her home now."

"Absolutely not. We need them on our side. You need to take her on a date as soon as possible."

"Okay, fine…" Wesley grumbled, sitting down his bed with a huff. He decided not to mention the rather embarrassing part about how every time he tried to ask her out, she turned him down. "So, can I wear this or not? And when am I getting a new valet, again?"

His mom didn't respond, just leveled him with a stare.

"Right, 'I have to be professional about this'. Sorry," he grumbled, looking down at the pathetic tie around his neck. He felt his mom place a hand on your shoulder as she sat down next to him.

"Honey, I know this isn't easy. But your brothers have gotten through it, and I went through it on the other side. I wish your father was here to help you…" her voice tightened as she squeezed his shoulder, "But he's not. And I know it's in your nature to turn everything into a game, but you have to promise me you'll take this seriously."

"I'm trying, Mom."

She was quiet for a moment, and Wesley looked back up.

"This….this isn't about Lissa Dove being back at the palace, is it?"

Her name hung in the air, and he thought of lovely, sunny days at Trentworth, sneaking around away from everyone else, running down to the beach and dancing with her at midnight, the way her cheeks had turned pink when he had kissed her, and her smirk as she pushed him into the fountain because of it. He thought of the way she ran her fingertips over his jaw and then wrapped them around his neck when he kissed her, how she smelled unexplainably of sugar cookies, the way the sun lit up the lightest strands of her hair and brought out the green in her eyes. The way she looked sideways at him when she thought he wasn't looking, how her eyes and cheeks scrunched up when she smiled, and the funny little squeak she made when she laughed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered how his mom had lied to him about Lissa too, after the masquerade during Ethan's Selection. How she had threatened to fire Lissa from Evie and Sophie's governess at the reception for the Selected when she had found her comforting him.

"No... it's not her. She does her job, and I do mine. I'm just glad she's happy here," he said, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"Then what is it?"

He remembered being blind as he ran through the snow. The snow, the fog, the smoke. Not knowing where he was or where he was going, just the overwhelming panic to _run._ It wasn't hard to remember, it came back all the time, sometimes in nightmares, and sometimes when he was wide awake. The way the fear clogged his throat and froze his heart and took over everything. How he didn't think so much blood could come from one person, from himself, the pain and the fear and the _blood_ and how he was going to die no matter what he did. Seeing the body of his best friend, and knowing it was his fault and no matter what he did nothing would ever ever ever change that.

Wesley could feel his mom's eyes on him, and he swallowed hard.

"I don't know, I guess I just can't get used to being back here," Wesley said, "I miss the freedom of being away. Not being a prince and all, the army. It was fun." He let out a chuckle of a laugh for effect, but it hurt his throat.

Queen Francesca patted his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you can be honest with me. I know it's a lot to handle in a transition, especially with the Selection as well. But tonight will be fun too."

Wesley forced himself to smile and nod and untied the pathetic tie. "I guess I should get ready, then."

She smiled and stood up with a rustle of the heavy fabric. "Don't be late, darling."

Once again, Wesley was alone in his room. Only forty-five minutes to get ready.

Predictably, he was late.

At least an hour later—though by then he had lost track of all time and had no idea anymore- Wesley trotted down the stairs, clipping on his cufflinks and trying to make sure his hair didn't look like a dumpster fire. He was positive that the Great Room and the gardens were an absolute zoo right now, though the rest of the palace was strangely deserted, and the lights seemed dimmer. Even from here, he could hear the faint thrum of music.

It had just taken him a lot longer than expected to shower and shave and get dressed and remember how to tie a bowtie. Okay, well actually that hadn't taken very long. Procrastinating was what had done him in and made him so late. It might have helped if he would have allowed Joseph to help him, but when his valet had come to see if he needed anything, he had smugly sent him away.

He knew lots of the servants, especially the men, had been invited/recruited to act as dance partners for all the guests, and Joseph had been out of uniform, so that was one more person to add to his "avoid at all costs" list, right up there with Lady Dresden who hated him, Lady Iris who he had had a panic attack in front of and was too embarrassed to face her again, Lady Fallon who would insult the hell out of his clothes in her quiet voice that made it even worse, Lady Darcy who would probably have another list, Lady Georgia who may or may not be trying to kill him—basically all his Selected. Not to mention his mom. Elvira because she would immediately know something was wrong and try to force him to tell her. Nat, as much as he loved her she would no doubt ruin his hair and he was wearing gel. That guard who never smiled and had the prosthetic leg. Aidan's crazy nanny. Adele's little boy Gideon who was basically a monster in toddler form.

And Lissa.

Wesley reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the Main Hall. It was surprisingly empty, though Wesley could clearly hear the sounds of the party emitting from the Great Room. He had made entrances like this more times than he could remember, but as he approached the massive closed doors, his stomach was in knots.

In his back pocket, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Among the twenty or so that were unread, it was yet another text from his mom demanded to know why he was late. He didn't bother reading the entire paragraph about his commitment, only shook his head and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

Wesley nodded to the guards stationed at the doors, hoping there wouldn't be any fanfare this time, and he could sneak in and get a drink before having to talk to anyone. If anything, this was going to suck.

The doors opened. And the Victory Ball began.

The Great Room was darker than he expected, though it was lit up with warm golden lights spilling from the sparkling chandeliers. At one end of the massive ballroom, the twelve glass doors leading out to the terrace and then the gardens were open, and if possible, they were even more lit up. Wesley looked up, expecting to see the glass ceiling that had always been there, looming three stories above the heads of the guests. It was gone, though now he remembered that after the rebel's takeover it had been destroyed. Now it was replaced with a smaller version, a domed circular skylight in the center of the room.

The rebuilding and renovations also revealed a sort of balcony that went around the second floor, offering a place for guards to keep watch without being as intrusive. It was also a place to withdraw, and Wesley thought about heading there before he was noticed. If not, there were a few drawing rooms on the side, offering small parlors for the royal family to hide out for a few moments away from the public eye.

He missed his chance, predictably, noticing that one of the many camera crews was already recording his entrance, and some of the guests were taking notice of him. Wesley offered a quick wave-and-smile and then jogged down the short steps, scanning the room before he disappeared into the crowd. Finding his brothers would be a good bet, but he didn't see them. In fact, he didn't see anyone who his brain registered. There were so many people, it reminded him that the last big ball that was held in here was probably his and Lissa's birthday masquerade, and that hadn't ended so well.

The music was loud, thanks to what looked to be a full orchestra in the new orchestra pit by the steps that hadn't been there before the renovations, and they were nicely out of the way. Something else that was new in the Great Room was the slightly sunken middle part of the room, with the most light shining over it, providing a set-apart place for dancing.

He caught sight of _something_ in front of him, but then the people around him moved and blocked his sight. Wesley stood on his toes, and peered around for one of his family members, but came up empty. He registered seeing some of his Selected, standing in little clumps and all looking at him, but for the moment, he couldn't place their names. The loud music, the press of bodies around him, the sound of a hundred conversations—it was all getting a little overwhelming. He squeezed through the crowd and ended up close to the edge of the orchestra pit, a place that was surprisingly empty. Probably because of how loud the music was here, amplified by speakers, of all things.

Wesley spied a familiar figure perched precariously on the railing, her bare feet sticking out from the hem of her deep red gown and dangling above a discarded pair of silver heels.

"Vera," he said, loud over the music. She turned her head quickly, and the action flung her loosely curled blonde hair over her shoulder.

"We were all wondering when you would show up," A smile graced her round face, and cute little dimples he had never noticed before appeared.

"Don't fall," he gestured to the railing she sat on. "They might force you to play an instrument down there and you'll be stuck down there until the next ball."

Vera rolled her eyes at him and slid from her perch, and Wesley breathed a sigh of relief.

"That might not be so hard. I was a Five before…" she trailed off, and turned away from the crowd, propping her elbows on the railing and looking over the orchestra. Wesley joined her, the sleeve of his jacket brushing against her bare shoulder.

"I think I was supposed to know that, but I guess I just forgot. What did you do?"

"It's okay, sometimes I forget too," she shrugged nonchalantly. "I played the piano, mostly. Sang every now and then."

"Aw, sweet. We should do karaoke sometimes. Although on second thought, you do _not_ want to hear me sing."

Vera smiled but didn't say anything as she straightened and turned back to the party. After a moment she spoke up.

"I can't believe we won," she said, her eyes taking in the throngs of people filling the Great Room, almost as if she forgot Wesley was standing there with her. Her blue eyes were glistening in the light from the chandeliers.

He didn't tell her that he couldn't believe he had _survived._ He just nodded.

"It never seemed possible, did it? But we did it. We brought the country back together."

Her hand went to her shoulder, and in her strapless gown, Wesley noticed the knotted, scarred skin of her shoulder blade. She fixed her gaze on him, but there wasn't any of the barefoot, skirt-carrying girl who he had met before. "But at what cost?"

"Well we survived, didn't we? Can't say that about a lot of people."

She immediately took a step away from him, eyes hard and jaw tense. "What I survived might have killed you," she said, raising her voice even higher than the volume they had used to talk over the music.

Caught off guard, Wesley opened his mouth to reply but didn't know what to say so just gaped at her like an idiot.

Vera wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "Sorry, it's just sometimes I don't think it was worth it, fighting your war. I fought for my loved ones," she said, hands covering the knotted scars on her shoulder. "It was awful."

"I know it was." The words flooded out of Wesley before he could stop them, and there was part of him that was suddenly angry. "We all have scars."

Vera shot him a glare, the fire in her eyes burning with a story she would never tell. And then it was gone, replaced with tears. "Mine just happen to be more visible than others," she said, her mouth wobbling. At least that's what he thought she said because she spoke too softly to hear above the music.

Wesley thought he saw a tear escape as she ducked past him to retrieve her shoes, but he couldn't be sure. She was gone a second later, disappearing into the crowd, and leaving him even more confused and lonely than before. Okay, so maybe that hadn't been the best thing to say, but he hadn't expected that reaction.

Why did he have to screw everything up?

He plunged back into the crowd, but he didn't follow Vera. He just wanted some quiet.

Anywhere but here.

Wes had halfway across the ballroom when he was suddenly ambushed by a blur of—

What the hell?

Salmon colored tulle?

That was somehow the exact color of The Shorts That Joseph Stole That Caused Major Issues?

"Hi, _Brian_ ," the tulle monstrosity spoke, and Wesley raised his eyes from it's skirt to the heart-shaped-face framed by bouncy blonde curls at least a foot shorter than him. Lady Darcy smiled a sickeningly sweet smile at him.

"Uh…Brian?" Wesley stammered. "That's not my name…?"

"Aw, don't get upset sweetie!" She chided, her voice loud and demeaning. "Do you like my dress?"

"Um, it's very…"

"Familiar?" Darcy offered, cocking her head. Her lips curled into a more evil than a sweet smile. He could see the look in her eyes that she knew exactly what she was doing, and everything she had said so far was extremely calculated.

Wesley took a few steps back, and the smile turned into a smirk. "Yeah. Familiar. Good word."

"So, I just met your valet, _finally,_ and he agreed to deliver my list to you! Isn't that great?"

Wesley looked around nervously for Joseph but didn't spot him anywhere. He remembered the several pages of grievances that Darcy had tried to give him at the reception, the second one being that his hair was stupid.

"Great, just great!" he shot back, forcing a sunny smile to match hers. "Look, Lady Darcy, have I done something wrong? Something to offend you? Because you seem to have a problem with me."

The smirk curled into a sneering frown. "Oh honey, first off, don't worry about me, worry about your eyebrows. Second, _no offense_ , but-" she paused to suck in a deep breath and her next words came out as high-pitched yelling, "-but I don't just have a problem with you. You are literally the worst person I've ever met! I don't understand why you just go around ruining people's lives with all your power because power corrupts and you don't understand justice because you-"

"I have literally talked to you once!" Wesley cut her off with a shout that caused several heads to turn their way. He didn't stop, that anger he had felt earlier was now raging inside of him.

"What is your problem?"

Darcy's eyes narrowed, and she stood on her toes to get in his face. She jabbed her finger in his chest.

"People will never bleed enough to fulfill your version of justice," she spat. She took another deep breath to prepare for another tirade, but Wesley didn't let her.

"I'll fax you my concerns about your list, _Tiffany_ ," he retorted with the first name that popped into his head and nudging her aside. "I've gotta run."

Wesley didn't look back to see her face, but he did hear a shriek of frustration, and what sounded like a stamped foot.

It was enough.

He reached the dance floor and saw Lady Nikoli and Lady Piper standing on the edge, watching the dancers. Nikoli wore a navy blue gown embroidered with golden-brown flowers. Her eyes found him, and she smiled hesitantly as he approached, but he didn't plan on stopping.

Not then, anyway. A few steps later, he did stop.

He couldn't help himself.

She was so—

Beautiful.

And he couldn't take his eyes off Lissa Dove as she danced with her new boyfriend.

For a second, he was back at their birthday masquerade, looking at her coming down the stairs in her pink gown. Lissa's dress was almost the exact same shade, the tulle swooping around her heels, overlaid with fluttering silk flowers. Her shoulders were bare, and her golden-blonde hair cascaded to her shoulders in loose waves, shorter strands on the side framing her face. Her green eyes, crinkled on the edge in laughter as she tipped her head back, sending her hair in a flurry.

A hot feeling washed over him as he saw how her dress dipped low in the back. It changed to sickness as he watched Joseph put his hands on her waist, fingers skimming over her bare skin. She smiled, and her eyes crinkled more, and her cheeks scrunched up. Then she put her arms around Joseph's neck, and they were pressed against each other. He barely recognized his valet as he whispered into Lissa's ear, causing her to giggle. They were caught up in their own little world, practically oblivious to everyone around them.

They looked happier than he had ever been.

Wesley swallowed hard, and all but shoved his way past Nikoli and Piper, ignoring everyone as he pushed past them.

The noise of the ball was screaming in his ears as he ducked into the private drawing room, hoping he could hide the rest of the night.

Nope.

Wesley let out a high-pitched shriek and clapped his hands over his face as he walked in on Ethan with Nicole in his arms, making out.

"Wes!" he heard Ethan say.

"Lock the door, why don't you!" Wesley exclaimed, still hiding his eyes. "What if one of the kids had come in? Are you decent or should I back out of here without looking and hope I don't trip?"

"We were decent before, you idiot," Nicole said, giggling. "You can come out now."

Wesley cautiously lowered his hands from his face, finding his brother and sister-in-law laughing at him, their faces flushed.

"Damn, when I thought I wanted some alone time I didn't mean I wanted to interrupt yours."

Nicole playfully rolled her eyes at him, and then nudged Ethan. "Told ya," she said. They made a lovely couple, with Ethan in light gray suit and Nicole in a metallic pale pink gown completely covered with darker pink flowers. The skirt flared out like any traditional ball gown, but ended at her ankles, showing off her rose-gold heels. Ethan had his arm draped around her, pulling her snug against his side.

An image of them kissing when he walked in flashed across his mind, only they were replaced with Lissa and Joseph. He blinked and shook his head, and his brother and Nicole were back, looking at him with smiling faces.

And for some reason, the sight of them so happy together was maddening.

"Seriously, I've been looking all over for you guys, and this is where you've been?" he demanded. The laughter died on their faces as he raised his voice at them. "I can't believe this. You make me have this ridiculous Selection to fix the whole country, with all these girls who don't me, who hate me and might want me dead, and then throw this stupid ball, and… _I can't do this!_ "

Neither Ethan or Nicole said anything, and the silence threw Wesley's outburst right back at him. He slumped down on one of the sofas and buried his face in his hands.

"Sorry…" he murmured. He hadn't even managed to get a glass of champagne and this ball was already a horror show. Vera hated him, Darcy hated him—and he hardly even knew them.

It was just too much.

His eyes burned, and he pressed the heels of his hands harder against them as if he could keep the tears in.

He didn't look up but rather felt Ethan and Nicole sit down on either side of him on the sofa.

"Wes, are you okay?" Nicole asked gently.

 _I have to take this seriously. This isn't about Lissa. This isn't about the war._

Wesley took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to respond, say something trivial like he had told his mom, but the lump in his throat made speaking impossible. Ethan put his arm around him, and that made it all the worse.

The drawing room was quiet, as quiet as it could be with the ball happening right outside. No one said anything as he tried really really really hard not to cry-they just on either side of him.

When his eyes dried and he felt like he could breathe again, Wesley raised his head and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"I shouldn't have said that," he began, propping his head on his hands.

"It's okay," Ethan cut in, squeezing his shoulder. "You're right, we should have been there for you."

"No—I need to be able to do this on my own," Wesley shook his head. "I just got so…angry."

Nicole patted his arm. "It's not a crime to ask for help."

Wesley leaned back against the sofa. "I don't know what came over me, it was all going so well. At least until that incident downtown," he mumbled the last part quickly, looking for anything else to blame aside from the horrific disaster of himself. "The Selected liked me, I liked them, the plan was working. Now they all hate me. Everyone one in this whole country hates me. I look like a jerk, a screw-up. And seeing you guys so happy…"

"They don't hate you," Nicole interrupted. "They love you!"

"You're the only one of us who actually went out and fought for what we were asking them to do," Ethan said. "Andrew and me, we just stayed here where it was safe."

"Yeah, but…"

Look what it had turned him into.

Wesley didn't say that. He just shook his head.

"I remember thinking the same way, you know," Ethan looked over at his wife. "I didn't think it was possible, to find someone who you could love and would love you back, after so much bad had happened."

Nicole smiled on Wesley's other side. "But it was possible. For both of us." Her eyes were sparkling like she had a secret or something. "And Wes, I know it's possible for you, too."

Wesley took a deep breath as if he could catch everything that they had in the air and take it for himself. All that _hope._ He needed it to try to fix all the pieces of his soul that were breaking apart. Everything to come, his memories, his hopes and dreams, all of it. It was smashing together in the thing called _him_ , blocking out the light and shattering into a thousand pieces at the same time.

He had never understood the amount of pain that could stay hidden in the deepest corners of a person until it was inside of him.

Was there even the slightest chance? For hope at the end?

There had to be.

He was still alive. That had to count for something. Like he had told Vera, not everyone had.

Wesley pushed himself to his feet and ran his fingers through his hair. He let out a long breath and squared his shoulders.

"Okay. Okay. I can do this," he said. Ethan and Nicole looked at each other and then back at him.

"We know you can," Nicole said.

Wesley nodded vigorously. "I can do this," he repeated "I need a drink, but I can do this." Maybe if he said it enough it would be a bit easier.

He crossed the room to the extensive display of snacks and assorted drinks for the royal family, already eyeing the tequila.

"Oh no you don't," Ethan intercepted him. "No alcohol for you."

Wesley glared at him. "Bruh, I have a clear memory of doing a whole bunch of shots with you and Andrew at the bar during the opening reception. How is this any different?"

"Anything else you remember from that night?"

Wesley lowered his head. "Not really, no," he muttered.

"Yeah, that probably wasn't the best idea, getting you plastered with us. Mom put me in charge of babysitting you to make sure you stay sober."

"Nooooo," Wesley groaned, slapping his forehead. "Please no, Ethan."

"Hey, I got drunk exactly once during my whole Selection," Ethan stood protectively in front of the drink table.

"You also are the most boring person I've ever met."

"Hey!" Nicole exclaimed, nudging Wesley in the ribs.

Wesley threw himself down on the sofa with a groan. "Please?"

"Sorry, bro." A juice box meant for one the kids landed on him. "Try this."

Wesley gave both of them death glares as he stabbed the straw into the juice box and finished it off in a few gulps. It wasn't what he had had in mind, but it would have to do.

"Ready to get back out there?" Ethan asked.

"I'm not talking to you anymore, but yes," Wesley said as he stood up and threw the juice box away. He faced the door leading back out into the Great Room, and fiddled with his lapels.

Nicole reached for his hand and squeezed it. On his other side, Ethan clapped his hand over Wesley's shoulder.

"Okay. Let's do this."

They opened the doors and rejoined the ball, now in full swing. Wesley looked around, catching sight of Gracie and Damian dancing together, his mom talking to Andrew, and Lady Lillian doubled over with laughter with Lady Alyex.

"Where have you been hiding, Nicky?" Nat joined them, dressed in a gold mermaid gown, contrasting to all of the full skirts. Ben tagged along behind her.

"Just taking a break with these hooligans," Nicole gestured to the pair of brothers.

Predictably, Nat reached over to mess up Wesley's hair. "Ah, here he finally is! Why have you been hiding, Wes?"

"Apparently, I'm supposed to get through this sober," Wesley said, frowning. "Just trying to cope."

"You should try dancing. It usually helps," Nat looped her around his neck. "I'll watch out for you, I promise."

His three guardians started talking amongst themselves, and Wesley scanned the room again. He told himself he needed to find where Lissa was so he could avoid her.

He recognized a handful of movie stars, and even a couple of the old Selection contenders. Lillian and Alyex were hard to miss again, both dressed in white. Alyex's was trimmed in delicate gold, while Lillian's long lacy sleeves and narrow skirt suited her tall frame perfectly. He briefly met Iris's eyes from where she stood with Valette and Reese, commanding attention in a bright yellow dress. He quickly looked away, heat creeping into his cheeks from embarrassment.

A sky-blue vision broke through the crowd and approached them. It was Eleanor, looking gorgeous. The pale blue set off her olive toned skin and raven hair beautifully, with draped lace sleeves making her seem even more graceful. Her big brown eyes were sparkling, and she was grinning from ear to ear.

Wesley pushed it all out of his mind—Vera, the war, Darcy, Lissa and Joseph—everything. He turned to Nat and Nicole. "Ladies," he said, nodding slightly, "I'll leave you too it." With one more glare at his Drink Babysitter, he stepped forward to meet Eleanor, sent off with well-wishes and shoulder-pats from his rescuers.

"Hi," she greeted. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" The warmth in her voice brought a smile to Wesley's face.

Maybe it was true after all. Maybe it was going to be okay.

"You look great," he said.

She looked down and blushed a little. "Thanks. It's the dress, really."

"No…" Wesley reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. "Not just the dress."

Eleanor spun in a little circle to show it off. "Oh please. It's hard not to look great wearing something as lovely as this."

"So, um…would you like to dance?" The question had tumbled out of him before he even thought about it. "Wait, crap. I can't dance at all, and you are an actual ballerina. Bad idea. We could, I don't know, get some appetizers or something?"

"No, too late, you already asked me. You are now obligated to dance with me," Eleanor's smile grew impossibly wide, and she put her hand on his arm, and turned towards the dance floor. "Come on!"

"No, wait! You really should not see me dancing!" Wesley protested, but allowed her to lead him anyway. "Save yourself before it's too late!"

She socked him lightly on the arm. "No can do, pal. Once you ask it's too late. And besides, unless it's ballet, I'm not that good either."

Wesley scoffed. "I find that hard to believe."

"I'm serious!" she squealed as they stepped down into the dancing area. Eleanor turned toward him and held out her arms.

There was a moment then, and he didn't know why this had seemed so horrible earlier. The gold light from the chandeliers sparkled in her eyes, everyone around them was smiling and laughing, and there was so much joy in the room it was overwhelming.

But overwhelming in the best kind of ways.

"I usually just copy everyone else," Wesley said, looking around.

He saw Colin and Adele waltzing together, looking very Prime-Minister-y in their coordinating outfits—Adele in a bright red fitted gown and Colin in a red suit, white shirt, and blue tie. Nat and Ben had followed them down here, and were talking to Elvira (in black, of course). Christine was on the edge of the dance floor, in an impossibly wide deep red ballgown, holding hands with Evie and Sophie and spinning in a circle with them while Andrew held Aidan.

It felt like home.

He took one of Eleanor's hands, and set the other on her hip. She drew closer and wrapped her arm over his shoulder. Her rosebud lips pressed together in a shy smile, and she looked down.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked.

Eleanor nodded. "You're great."

Maybe there was hope. Something to grab hold of and let it pull him forward and keep going. Something dangerous and painful and risky, something that would be a dare in a world that hadn't been so kind to him.

Maybe this _would_ all work out and he would be okay.

It had to.


	15. Let The Time Go By

**HEEEEY everyone! I'm hella extra so yet again this chapter didn't get done what I have planned, so there will be one more ball chapter after this. I've been working really hard on this, but I got stuck on the ending and transitions, so it took forever. Basically, this chapter is just a lot of the Selected, and not even all the ones I planned to include (if they haven't, they'll get their time, I promise!)**

 **Thanks to** mnbvcxz-xx, RunawayGirl8125, Nameless, delovlies **and** Miss Kaydence **(for also updating like four times since I have) for your wonderful reviews!**

…

"I'm sorry, I did warn you!" Wesley apologized again as he clumsily attempted to steer Eleanor in something that resembled ballroom dancing.

"No, it's okay. I supposed I asked for it!" Eleanor didn't look quite as happy as she had when they'd started, and she was still blushing from being run back into a famous celebrity couple by Wesley.

It was completely accidental, of course. He hadn't willingly ever listened to his required-because-prince dance lessons, and the last one he had been to was when he was eleven—ten years ago.

Eleanor, of course, still managed to look completely beautiful and graceful, and despite her claims otherwise, was a great dancer. Her smile had shrunk, and now barely turned up the corners of her mouth.

He didn't miss the way that his Selected had suddenly turned out in mobs to watch them. It seemed like half of them were glaring at Eleanor, and the other half were laughing at him. Georgia's eyes were trained on him like a cat watching a mouse, and Darcy honestly looked like she was thriving off his embarrassment in all her salmon-colored glory. Iris looked a bit disappointed, and she quickly looked away when he made eye contact. Fallon was biting her lip, her hands gathered up against her chest and tucked under her chin as if she was hugging herself. If he hadn't been holding onto Eleanor, Wesley might have covered up his bowtie so Fallon wouldn't see it.

"Sorry, this is a disaster," Wesley said, half-stumbling over his own feet.

Eleanor gave him a reassuring smile, which in Wesley's mind was a small success—better pity than unhappiness. "You're doing great."

"It would help if everyone wasn't staring our guts out."

"I don't think I've heard that one before," Eleanor gave a little giggle.

"You should probably ignore half of the things I say. Especially right now, I just remembered I hate being the center of attention."

"Well, don't look now, but they're recording this," Eleanor nodded over his shoulder. "What do you think, would this make an endearing or embarrassing headline?

Wesley turned his head to see one of the skeleton camera crews they had let remain to cover the event. They were supposed to leave after the first hour of the ball, but obviously, they were still here, hiding by the Great Room entrance. He also saw his mother watching them. She was frowning—not a good sign.

Predictably, as he took his mind off the dance, he lost his steps, bumping into the older couple behind them. He was pretty sure they were important people too, but his brain was too frazzled by the impossible task of dancing to remember.

"Hey, stay with me!" Eleanor tripped a little but took the lead and pushed them back into time with the others. She tightened her grip on his neck, pulling herself a little closer, so close that their cheeks were practically touching. Up this close, he noticed her eyes were more hazel-green that brown, glinting with gold from the chandeliers.

"Now go for a spin—let's give them something to record!" she murmured into his ear. Wesley held his arm holding her hand up, and Eleanor ducked underneath, picking up the skirt of her pale-blue gown with the other hand. She flashed him a smile, and in a second, she was back by his side.

"Wow, okay. I thought that would be a lot harder," Wesley said.

Eleanor grinned, and her nose wrinkled slightly. "I told you it wasn't hard."

He could smell the hairspray in her hair, along with her subtle perfume, and it was intoxicating. But then the image from earlier of Lissa pressed up against Joseph the way Eleanor was pressed up against him popped into his traitorous brain, and he had to quickly step back so they weren't dancing so close. To distract himself from the guilt he tried to refocus on the girl before him.

"So, back in Tammins, what did Miss Eleanor Archibald do? I mean I know you're a ballerina and all…"

"I just finished my training last year. This is my first year with the Tammins Regional Company. I'm just in the corps de ballet, but only four of us from my year even made it in, so I'll take it."

"Sorry, the core de what?"

Eleanor laughed and squeezed his hand. "It's basically just the dancers in the background. We're not soloists or anything, you have to work your way up. The lowest of the low, but you have to start somewhere."

"What about your family?" Wesley asked. "Do you have any siblings?"

Eleanor shook her head, "Nope, just me." She went back to frowning—not a good sign. "I was always very close to my dad, though."

Wesley didn't miss her use of the past tense. He probably shouldn't have commented on it, but as they always did the question tumbled out of him before he could stop it.

"Why not anymore?"

Eleanor met his gaze and hurt flashed across her face. "He was killed, at the beginning of the rebellion. He was just an artist, but he was drafted in the first round. He died not even a month later."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Wesley offered lamely. "And your mom?"

"She wants what's best for her for me." Her words were short and clipped, and by then Wesley knew better than to ask for more details, and Eleanor didn't offer any.

She winced suddenly and lost her footing slightly, leaning against him.

"Sorry!" Wesley cried. He had gotten so caught up in her story that he'd forgotten to focus on the waltz and had stepped on her toes.

"No, it's okay," Eleanor said, though it had to have hurt. He could see her shoes when she stepped forward, and her open-toed high heels probably hadn't offered much protection against his heavy dress shoes. She had ended their closeness, stepping back away from him.

"I'm pretty sure I just committed the cardinal dancing sin."

"Really, I'm fi-" she stopped with a sharp intake of breath as Wesley accidentally trod on her toes again, sending them both stumbling into each other.

He mumbled several choice curses and combined with his prodding, this time Eleanor looked angry She stepped back away from the dancing, holding her hands up.

"Okay, I can survive once, but not twice! I need these toes to make a living!"

"I'm so sorry," Wesley began. "I told you I'm terrible."

He was aware that the audience was back, only this time instead of his terrible dancing skills, he had just been dropped by his partner. Darcy was laughing loudly, and Valette and Dresden looked like this was the best experience of the Selection so far. This would be a great time for Georgia to show her possible-true-rebel colors and kill him. And where was Joseph when he needed to yell at him and fire him?

Sweat broke on his forehead, and his tuxedo coat suddenly felt like a straightjacket.

Not again.

He was right back to where he started this ball-or at least re-started it when he came out of hiding with Ethan and Nicole. He looked around furiously for one of them, or at least Nat or Andrew or even one of the little kids at this point to save him, but he didn't see them. Only his mother, watching him like a hawk and as it would have it, looking displeased. Her earlier words to him flashed into his brain.

This wasn't supposed to be about the war. This wasn't supposed to be about Lissa. He had to take this seriously because he was _fine_.

Eleanor was staring him, waiting, but he didn't know what to say or do. He wanted to bolt, hide in the hallway, hop in a car and never return. He wanted to scream or cry or drink himself to death in a haze of fun. He wanted to blame Lissa or Drake or anyone other than himself.

His savior took one of the most unlikely forms.

Fallon all but shoved Eleanor out of the way, and for a second Wesley thought she might literally be there to stab him over his terrible fashion sense, but instead, she grabbed his hand and yanked his other hand into waltzing posture, and before he could even scream for help, she was guiding him around the dance floor in exactly a way a prince would be expected to.

"You clearly have no idea how to do this. Idiot," she mumbled. The dark-haired girl didn't look at him as she danced like she was born to.

She was a Berlin, though. She probably was.

From such a famous girl, he expected a more flamboyant gown, but Fallon's blue-gray one was simple. The skirt wasn't as full as most of the other women's and other than sparkly beading going on down the bodice and flowing over the skirt, it was unadorned. A ribbon headband tied back her softly pinned-up hair, and the ends of the ribbon tied at the back of her head and continued over her back.

Finally, she looked up, her eyes snagging on his bowtie before finally meeting his eyes with her wide blue ones.

"First the tie, now this. I don't think we can make this relationship work."

Her words were emotionless, like the cold look in her eyes. And yet, her very act of saving him from total humiliation spoke otherwise.

"Is it that bad?" He looked down at his bowtie and shirt.

Fallon nodded quickly, her eyes back on her shoes. "I might cry. Really. I might."

"Well, before you do, at least let me tell you that you are an absolute saint for saving me back there. I don't know what I did wrong, one minute everything was fine and then Eleanor was practically dumping me."

Fallon's eyes met his for another fraction of a second before she looked away. She cleared her throat.

"I don't actually care about your problems, but please get your head out of your ass and focus here before the queen murders us all, please and thank you. You're out of rhythm."

For the next several songs the orchestra played, Fallon insulted his dancing skills while proving to be a ruthless instructor as she softly instructed him on the finer points of dancing. She was pretty liberal in her use of resorting to kicking him or even shoving him when he wasn't moving fast enough, but Wesley had no choice but to shut up and listen to her. She squeezed his hand so tightly at times it hurt. Even thru her long white gloves, her hand felt cold. The hand that was on her back could feel her spine and ribcage through the thin fabric of her dress. She felt delicate and almost breakable, and to be honest, he had no idea what to think of this girl.

All he had to go on was what his mom had told him about her, and her popularity. And more importantly, that he needed to go on a date with her.

"So, from what I've heard, people have been dying to see us together, and they keep blaming me when you're the one who keeps turning me down. What made you change your mind?"

Fallon flashed a scowl at his attempt to be flirtatious. "They haven't actually been dying, so please don't use that."

"Oh. Sorry."

"You should be."

Wesley's legs got tangled up, and he stepped forward right onto her foot. Luckily, unlike Eleanor, her heels were not open-toed.

"Sorry," he said for the umpteenth time.

"That's it, I'm leaving you. We're getting a divorce." Fallon mumbled. She nudged his leg with her knee. "Wrong leg, focus here!"

Despite what she said, she showed no sign of ending the merciless and slightly painful dance lesson. When he got back into the dance, he decided to try again.

"I've been thinking—we should go out. On a proper date."

Fallon pressed her lips together, and he decided that was as close to a smile as he was going to get. "Preferably one that doesn't involve dancing," she replied. Now, dip in one, two, three." Fallon let go of his hand and leaned backward on his supporting arm around her waist, and the music of the song came to an end. "I think that's enough dancing for me."

"So is that a yes for the date? I promise, no dancing." Wesley pulled Fallon back up, and she let go of the vice grip she had on his hand.

"Um, no. It's a no, I mean," she swallowed, and then nodded several times. "Like I said, I can't go on a date with you until you show me some better clothes. Not-" she waved her hand at his tux, "—this."

Wesley sighed, knowing he was defeated and not wanting to make another scene. Besides, he had gotten the feeling that Fallon was a lot nicer than she seemed, and his clothes weren't actually the reason she was refusing.

"You should see what my valet had picked out for me. It was even worse. Consider yourself lucky that I changed."

Fallon opened her mouth and then turned like she might skitter away, but she paused and looked back at him.

"Your valet is a bit of a dick."

Wesley couldn't help but burst into laughter, only imagining how that interaction had gone down. Fallon pressed her lips together and smiled the teeniest-tiniest smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling up ever so slightly.

"Thanks for the dance lesson," he said when he finally could speak again.

She nodded again. "We aren't doing it ever again, but you're welcome."

Fallon slipped away into the crowd before he could say anything else, gone almost as quickly as she had appeared. The orchestra had stopped playing, and the music switched over to the speakers hidden all over the room to loud upbeat pop music.

The transition provided a good enough distraction for no one to notice Wes slip away from the dance floor in search of perhaps an alcoholic beverage but probably just a soda, or worse, a juice box, due to the fantastic new rules dominating his entire existence. Really, he just needed a break. Plus you could never go wrong with fancy appetizers, either, like those bacon-wrapped things on toothpicks he had seen earlier.

It didn't turn into much of a break unless you count half of a mozzarella stick (even better than the toothpick bacon-wrapped things) and waiting for the foam on his Sprite to stop fizzing before his relative solitude ended with the arrival of Lady Georgia.

She had practically snuck up on him yet again, which seemed difficult considering her five-inch heels, peeking out from the ruffles on the flared bottom of her blush-colored dress, that fitted close to her body until just above her knees, with a train of several inches.

Wesley half-choked on his mozzarella stick and mumbled a greeting around the mouthful.

"Sup!" he blurted out loudly, trying to act normal.

Georgia didn't smile, of course, she didn't smile. Wesley didn't think she was even capable of smiling. She just did that infuriating eyebrow thing and tipped her head to the side.

"A bit of a slight, isn't it?" she said, in that quiet voice of hers that forced you to listen. "Celebrating victory?"

Wesley didn't have an answer, so he just grabbed his Sprite and took a long drink that ended up being the whole glass because nothing came to mind as he drained it. Georgia never broke her gaze, just watched him. He wasn't even sure she blinked.

When there was nothing but ice cubes left, he wiped his lips on his sleeve.

"I like your hair tonight," he stammered. "Your dress is cool. And those shoes, wow, you're taller than me."

Georgia's blonde hair was twisted up into an elaborate bun-thing, with a few strands framing her face, and Wesley suddenly came to the embarrassing realization that the two inches the heels gave her on him made her boobs just an easy glance down.

Great.

She blinked extra long in a way that gave him just enough time to evaluate his life choices and know he had made the wrong ones before responding.

"We're supposed to be back to being one whole country, but this ball is basically rubbing salt into the secession wounds," she said, her voice louder than her normal controlled tone.

Wesley busied himself with trying to dump an ice cube into his mouth which only resulted in all of them sliding from the bottom of the glass onto his face. He lowered the glass and cleared his throat.

"Can't you just think of it as…a union…united…u…not political in any way ball?"

There went her eyebrows _again._ "Perhaps we should have just not attended—Fallon, Vera, Reese, Valette, and I—since we represent the provinces that seceded. Would that have worked better?"

"But—but you were like a spy. For us."

Georgia lifted her chin into the air, and the lines of her body tensed up. "Not _like_ , I _was_. But that doesn't change the fact that Yukon seceded and failed, does it?"

Wesley didn't have an answer for that either, and he was out distractions.

"I guess I didn't think of that," he muttered. There was a question burning in his mind, and he had never had good impulse control, so like with Eleanor he was asking it before he could think twice.

"But what I meant…are you happy with how it turned out? Are you happy we won?"

He hadn't realized that Georgia was capable of feeling any other emotion aside from distaste (namely directed at him) so Wesley was a bit shocked to see her expression change to hurt. She lowered her eyes, and some of the blonde strands out of her bun fell across her eyes. It was even more shocking to hear her next words.

"More than anything," she said, her voice soft again. "But it doesn't feel like I thought it would. I didn't realize I would be alone when it was all over."

Georgia looked at Wesley, and he looked back at her, and she didn't even move her eyebrows the slightest, so he figured it was something of a breakthrough.

"I didn't think that I would either."

Her eyes flitted around the room. "You would kick me out if you knew half of the things I did," Georgia said, her voice far away. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I just did what I had to do… to keep this country together."

"I should probably thank you."

Georgia turned her head away. "You don't have to, but I appreciate the thought."

They were quiet for a minute, standing on the outskirts of the ball. Wesley sloshed the ice cubes around his cup, and Georgia didn't glare at him, so he decided she probably wasn't trying to kill him.  
But you never know.

She left without a word a little bit later, leaving Wesley—plus his mozzarella sticks—in peace.

After his break, he made the rounds, speaking to all the important people and joining his family for some more snacks and strictly-enforced non-alcoholic beverages for him. He danced with his mom, Christine, and Nicole, and then the kids all at once for maximum embarrassment. After the banquet dinner, he ate cake with Nat, tried out his new dancing skills from Fallon with Adele, moaned about not being able to do shots with his brothers and Ben and Colin, took too many selfies with Gracie, and was flatly turned down with a rather terrifying stare from Elvira when he asked her to dance.

He tried to dance with or talk to as many of the Selected as possible, and to his relief, things were finally going well and he was enjoying himself. He showed Alyex his awesome socks patterned with lightning bolts wearing sunglasses at her insistence while he danced badly with her to even worse pop music. Dresden refused to dance with him, but she kinda scared him so he wasn't too upset. He was in awe of Ophelia in her gorgeous pale pink embellished blue-gray gown, not to mention her pretty slick dance moves as they sang along to the songs, and he even managed to make Callista smile with his horrible jokes over those bacon-wrapped-things on toothpicks. He and Iris were too shy bring up their date disaster when he danced with her aside from nothings about the party, but he managed to get three words out of Piper, so-progress. He ate celery sticks with Lillian in the gardens, talked exercising and proper squat technique with Reese, and managed to avoid Darcy the rest of the night.  
But as the ball dragged on later and later, he realized the absence of one of the Selected. He hadn't seen Veyra at all. He searched all over the ballroom of the Great Room, but no luck. She wasn't outside in the gardens or on the terrace, and none of the girls he asked had seen her.

He finally located her with the help of one of the guards. Despite the secret agent's vivaciousness, he found her alone on the balcony level, leaning on the railing surveying the ballroom below her.

"Hey," he said as he came to the top of the narrow staircase. "One of the guards said you were up here."

Veyra looked up and greeted him with a smile. "Aw man, I told George not to give me away for hiding up here." She raised a plastic cup complete with a straw to her lips and took a drink.

"Is that…iced coffee?" Wesley asked, eyeing the container.

Veyra nodded as she sipped from her straw. "Your guards here are really nice. They're totally down for feeding my addiction."

Wesley laughed. "That's funny, last time we talked, you told me one of them almost taser-ed you for going in one of the off-limits wings of the palace. Besides, isn't it, like, eleven o'clock at night?"

Veyra shrugged casually, drawing his attention to the black velvet dress she wore that fitted her like a glove, all the way down to her stilettos. "Isn't it, like, a ball?" she repeated, lightly mocking his tone but going down several octaves even though there was no way his voice was that deep. "It didn't take long to win them over and they know I'm responsible enough to go where I please. And I can drink coffee right now because everyone else is getting completely wasted on cocktails down there." She cocked her head, a wave of dark hair sweeping off her shoulder. "Except you. You look completely and utterly sober."

Wesley rolled his eyes and sat down on one of the benches that lined the balcony-hall behind her. "New rules, new me." He propped his hands behind his head. "I think we all have had enough of drunk me. Everyone but me, that is."

Veyra snorted a laugh and turned to face him, leaning against the railing with her hands outstretched on either side of her. "Aw, come on. Seeing drunk you stumble around the reception with your shoes untied was one of the most bizarre and entertaining things I've ever seen."

Wesley couldn't help but laugh. "Ugh, don't remind me. I need more alcohol to forget that!"

Veyra finished off her coffee and shook the ice cubes around as she eyed it forlornly. "Well, crap."

"So, what gives? Gonna tell me why you're up here feeding your unhealthy caffeine addiction all by yourself?"

"Hmmm, probably feeding my unhealthy caffeine addiction," she repeated as a smile played on her lips. "Actually, I never can seem to shake the feeling that I'm supposed to be alert to any information. And too many people make it a little overwhelming."

"I imagine it's hard to just stop being a secret agent like that."

"No more than stopping being a pilot and being thrust back into royal life," Veyra said. She fixed her dark eyes on him, crossing one leg over the other, revealing a slit in her dress that went to her mid-thigh.

Wesley shifted uncomfortably. He had liked being up here above all the people, but a combination of her question and her intense stare, not to mention her beauty made him break into a cold sweat.

"I guess so," he mumbled, before quickly changing the conversation. "You don't drink?"

"No, I do every so often. But old habits break hard and agents can't exactly afford to be intoxicated," she explained. "Just like princes, huh?" Her stare turned into a playful smirk that was beginning to drive him crazy. "Or do you have your own reasons for suddenly choosing soberness?"

Usually, he found it easy to be casual around people, especially females, but first Georgia and now Veyra was beginning to mess with his chill. "Ehh, my mother's new rule. She commanded me to take this seriously, and I don't have the best track record in the media for my behavior. I wish she would just get off my back sometimes, I know my father's death and all this change has been hard on her, but still."

Veyra looked down, and her smile slipped from her face.

"What?"

She shrugged. "Oh, nothing really. Whatever I was about to say isn't probably what you want to hear now."

"No, it's okay." Wesley stood up from his spot and joined her at the railing. "I haven't talked to you much yet, and I'm in no hurry to go back down there."

One side of Veyra's mouth twitched into a half-smile, and she fixed him with a thoughtful look. "It's just…I know mothers can be annoying. Every kid knows that. But—appreciate her while you have her," she paused, and sighed deeply, her face remaining impassive. "I lost my mom a few years ago in the war and…there's so much I regret about our relationship."

She looked so sad there like she didn't know what to do with herself. Wesley lightly touched her arm.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She smiled, of all things. "I don't want to bore you or keep you from the party."

He sensed that she _did_ want to talk about it, and if he was honest, he would much rather be hiding out up here finding more about one girl than all the others combined down in the chaos of the party.

"You won't. I was kinda done being down there anyway. I guess I'm getting old, I used to love parties."

"Well, I'm going to need a drink, so you might have to reconsider your new you."

"Done." Wesley grinned.

Veyra grinned back. "Cool. Be right back."

She left him alone in a flash, slipping quickly and quietly down the stairs down from the overhanging balcony. She was back in a flash, holding two little plates of various snacks balanced on the rims of two glasses of champagne.

"Don't worry, no one knows it's for you," she said, maneuvering the plates onto the ground and handing him one of the glasses. She sat down right on the floor, sitting cross-legged with her back against the railing and looked at him expectantly. "Well? C'mon, don't tell me you don't like picnics?"

"Uh, I happen to love picnics." Wesley plopped down opposite her, neither of them caring about their party clothes. He took a sip of his champagne.

"Sorry, I forgot to mention I'm a total lightweight when it comes to drinking," Veyra said, digging into the snacks—one plate of savory things and one of the desserts.

"Nah, this is fine. This way I won't be stumbling around losing my shoes again. Or whatever, I don't remember. I'm taking your advice to heart and _mostly_ accepting my mom's rule."

"Good for you, I know we're both twenty-one, but I would listen to my mom any day of the week if she was still here. She's why I entered the Selection."

"Oh, really? That's actually insanely cool." Wesley said with a mouthful of the awesome mozzarella sticks.

Veyra nodded, and snagged the other one she had brought, and took a bite. "I was too young to enter Prince Ethan's Selection, but I remember she told me that I could enter yours, because we were the same age, and she went on and on about it when we watched the Reports and stuff. I thought she was so annoying back then because entering the Selection was the last thing on my mind."

"What did she do? Was she a secret agent like yourself?"  
Veyra shook her head and took a sip of champagne. "No, I got that from my dad. My mom was a model. She was so gorgeous, people sometimes thought we sisters or something. After the secession, she did this fund-raising thing to help the people in the north who had nothing, and she even flew up there with the team. Things got out of hand, and the rebel army killed everyone because they suspected them of sending aid from the crown. I joined the ISRA after that, trying to help stop the war and all the senseless death."

As she spoke, her voice and face remained calm and never close to crying, completely separated from her emotions.

"That's awful, Veyra. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," she smiled slightly. "It's not important. Everyone lost someone, it seems."

"No!" Wesley practically interrupted her. "It's important for you. What everyone else experienced doesn't discredit what you did."

Veyra met his eyes for a second and then looked away. "I guess."

"And I think your mom would have been proud of you."

Her smile widened, and her eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really," Wesley said. He held up his champagne glass and raised his eyebrows at her. Veyra clicked her glass against his.

"To those we've lost," she toasted. He echoed her words as they hit him like a punch in the stomach. They both finished off their glasses.

He didn't want to talk about it. He wanted to keep it bottled up inside and never tell anyone, never face those looks of pity on their faces, never feel the helplessness that came with it, and most importantly, he never never never wanted to remember.

Maybe it was the champagne loosening his tongue, maybe it was the stress of the ball, or maybe it was the way Veyra's dark eyes were searching his face, her dark eyes sparkling in the glow from the chandeliers.

Whatever it was, the words started pouring out of him, and there wasn't a way to stop them.

"It was my fault," he began, "I thought we were going to be okay, and I let my guard down."

He began talking faster, "I was flying from Columbia, we were supposed to get all the way to Baffin. There was a plan to attack the rebels from the east instead of just the south. My plane was carrying a shipment of hard weapons and supplies. It was an eight-hour flight over rebel territory, and my co-pilot was sleeping so when we flew over Bankston he would be alert because we thought we were safe. But we weren't."

Wesley's logical explanation ended there, and he started to ramble, making a fool of himself when Veyra had told her story so calmly. "I was being careless. I was so stupid! I was looking at the stars, and I let us get tailed by a rebel plane. There weren't supposed to even be rebel air force in Ottaro, that was supposed to be our territory. And I just froze up, I didn't know what to do. Only he wasn't just my co-pilot, he was also one of the best friends I've ever had. He was one of the only friends I've ever had outside the palace and there wasn't time to react, and I just didn't know what to doand he made sure I got out but there wasn't time and he didn't get to jump and the plane…"

Wesley stood up so fast he upset his empty champagne glass, though it didn't break. He sucked in a lungful of air, jamming his stupid shaking hands into his pockets to hide them.

It had all been going so well.

"It was my fault."

Veyra stood up too and took a step towards him. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she said, her voice soft. He realized he had started to yell. His heart was slamming in his chest just from telling the stupid story. He wanted to run, not face the memories, not face this girl he barely knew with them.

He just wanted to forget.

Wesley turned away from her and looked out over the railing.

"I should be getting back," he said.

Whatever the moment could have been, he had ruined it.

"Are you sure? Do _you_ need to talk about it?" Veyra said gently. "I mean, I talked to you."

"No," Wesley said sharply. "No. I don't. I'm sorry. I'll…uh…see you later."

Like the horrible awful jerk and terrible stupid coward he was, he left her up there and retreating back down the stairs into the main part of the Great Room. He barely even noticed the ebb and flow of the ball around him as he moved around the side of the room, not really noticing the increasingly drunk dancers like Veyra had said.

He had tried his best to make the best of this night, to grab hold of that hope to let it pull him forward. But maybe there wasn't hope at the end of the road. Maybe bad things were always just going to be waiting just around the corner, pulling him back and never letting him go.

He might never be okay.

He passed Alyex and Ophelia, increasingly tipsy and giggling wildly as they danced to a popular song.

"Hey!" Alyex squealed, her voice loud. "Where have you been?"

Ophelia stopped singing along to the words long enough to give him a truly theatrical hug. Her usual soft gentleness had been hyped up by the champagne, he guessed. Both girls were holding glasses of the stuff, and their eyes were bright. "Come dance with us!"

"No, no, wait. Show us your socks!" Alyex cried, breaking into unstoppable giggles.

Ophelia clapped her hands together, and Wesley stopped long enough to oblige them, but he declined their offer to dance, and left the excited girls as quickly as possible to their own fun.

He contented himself with a juice box and hung to the edge of the room. Everyone was too happy and crazy to take much notice of him. Well, most people. A quick glance to the balcony area overhanging the room showed a lithe black-clad figure watching him, with a curtain of dark hair around her shoulders. She wasn't smiling.

Which sucked, because he had really liked Veyra in the time he had spent with her. And now he had royally stuffed up their conversation and left her like a jerk and his memories hung like a fifty-pound chain around his neck and no matter what he did they never left him alone and there was nothing he could do about it.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.

…


	16. Me and You

**Hello wonderful readers! Sorry, this chapter took a whole month to finish, I was an idiot and wrote the last part first and then the first half gave me so much trouble to try to connect them.**

 **Review shout outs to** Bree, delovlies, Lizcran ( **HIII!),** mnbvcxz-xx, Runawaygirl8125, Miss Kaydence, Nameless, bibliophile609 **and the marvelous** ladyanj ( **x2)!**

 **This chapter is basically me being extra and extending the ball! Enjoy loves!**

…

So far, the night was wonderful.

Gracie pressed another glass of champagne into Lissa's hand, a blur of pink tulle in the sparkling lights.

"Isn't this great!" She squealed, bouncing up and down, sending her own champagne sloshing over the rim and onto Damian's sleeve, seeing as how Gracie had her arm locked around his.

"It's pretty awesome," Lissa agreed, laughing at her friend's antics as she set aside the glass. The little princesses hadn't quite reached their bedtime and until then, she probably should remain sober. They were currently with their mother; Queen Christine had been nice enough to give Lissa several breaks and also spend time with her kids.

"I don't remember it being quite as fun when we were in the Selection!" Gracie, well, squealed again. She already did that a lot and having copious amounts of champagne weren't making her do it any less.

An equally buzzed Damian wrapped his arms tightly around her and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

"That's because I wasn't there," he said. Gracie squirmed away from her boyfriend with giggles as he kissed her neck.

"You guys are disgustingly cute," Lissa told them. "And by that, I mean just disgusting."

"You're right, we are," Gracie agreed, though made no movement to untangle herself from Damian. The Great Room was packed with revelers celebrating the victory of the civil war and a secure monarchy, and despite the increasingly late hour, no one showed much sign of stopping.

Except maybe Wesley. Lissa cast a brief glance over to one of the back corners of the massive room, half-hidden in the shadows between the outdoor terrace and the edge of the room. It was the last place she had seen him, and he was still there, leaning against the wall—alone.

She could see many of his Selected scattered around the room, but none of them thought to keep the sulking prince company.

That didn't mean she would either, though.

She jumped a little when she felt a hand steal over her back where her gown was cut low, and her thoughts ran far, far away from Wesley.

"Hey," Joseph said softly, well at least as softly as one could speak above the music. He left his hand on the small of her back, his hand warm against her skin. "Are you enjoying your working party?"

He smirked that cocky little half-grin he always used around her, and Lissa swore she could feel her heart rate pick up—that and the giddy butterflies dancing in her stomach.

"I know it probably makes me a total nerd to admit it, but yes, I actually am!"

He laughed and leaned in closer, so she could smell his intoxicating cologne. "I'm not surprised, it's something you definitely would. It's kind of adorable."

Lissa sidled away just a bit, just to tease him, not to get away. "Oh, I'm adorable, am I?"

"Adorable isn't exactly the word that comes to mind when I see you in that dress," his eyes skimmed briefly over her, and—

The butterflies immediately were gone. Replaced by the tinge of nausea.

It was probably meant as a flirty, suggestive comment, something teasing and innocent. Even a compliment.

But that's not how it made her feel.

It made her feel cheap. Thrown back into the nightclub, leered at by men probably cheating on their wives and being disgusting, while she lost every single shred of her decency and pride, and danced for them because she had to make sure her brothers got to eat somehow and had clean clothes and roof over their heads.

And it was never something she wanted to feel again.

Lissa crossed her arms tightly over herself and wished she had ignored Gracie and worn that blazer anyway. She looked around her friend but didn't see her or Damian anywhere. There was no sign of Nicole or Christine or the girls either, just a sea of faces she didn't recognize.

Joseph was looking at her funny now as she clammed up, but he didn't say anything about it.

"So, while Queen Christine has her daughters, do you want to dance some more? I highly doubt Prince Wesley will ever admit to needing my valet services, so I've been free all night."  
Lissa shook her head. "No. Not right now, sorry." She blurted out.

It wasn't Joseph's fault. She really liked him, he was impossibly cute and confident, and she had seen glimpses of his sweet and vulnerable side, and he flirted with her in a way that made her pulse go crazy.

But—

"Lissa?"

"I just don't feel like dancing right now, okay?" she said, louder. She tossed her hair back and stood up straighter.

She _never_ wanted to feel cheap and humiliated and trashy ever again. Ever.

"Okaay," Joseph said, his tone skeptical. "Well, can I get you a champagne or something?"

"No, thank you. I'd better go see if Christine needs me, sorry," she apologized and bolted before he could say anything.

The song was ending just as she made it to the edge of the dance floor where the queen and the little princesses were, and her charges immediately latched onto her. Christine shot her an apologetic look as she spoke to some important looking person, but Lissa didn't mind, she was glad for the distraction.  
"Are you guys having fun?" she asked the little princesses, taking their little sweaty hands.

Evangeline was bouncing up and down excitedly, sending Gracie-worthy amounts of pink tulle from her miniature ball gown. "Can we go back to the chocolate fountain?"

"I want to dance with Uncle Wesley again!" Sophie cried, dressed in a dress that matched her twin's except in lavender. "There he is!"

Before Lissa could react, the welcome distraction turned into a huge problem as Sophie broke free from Lissa's grip, and went flying across the ballroom to where Wesley was still standing alone.

Lissa cursed quietly under her breath and tightened her grip on Evangeline and took off in pursuit of Sophie before she fell or knocked over someone- or actually made it to Wesley and she had to face him again.

Weaving her way through dancing guests and increasingly intoxicated people after a child with another one in tow, in a ball gown and heels that had seemed really cute until she had worn them for three hours was something she should have come to expect in her job, but it was still really frickin' difficult, and Lissa still ended up with champagne splashed on her arm, though thankfully most of her dress escaped unscathed.

What she didn't avoid, however, was getting Sophie back.

By the time they had crossed the entire span of the Great Room, Sophie had already reached Wesley, and when Evie saw this, she broke free too, so when Lissa finally caught up, both girls were already embracing their uncle and giggling like maniacs.

At least he was finally smiling.

He had knelt down and draped an arm over both of them, and was telling them one of his lame jokes that made the girls cackle with laughter. They cast sheepish glances at her, but for the moment, Lissa was still too out of breath to reprimand them.

Wesley looked up, and his smile faded as he saw her.

"Oh. Hey."

"Hey," she managed, still out of breath. "Sorry about that, they kind of ambushed you."

Wesley looked back at his nieces. "Don't worry about, I never mind being ambushed." He pretended like he was about to tickle them and the girls squealed and squirmed away.

"Dance with us!" Evie exclaimed.

"Please, Uncle Wesley!" Sophie echoed.

Wesley glanced at Lissa, and she forced a quick smile. "Fine by me."

The girls broke into delighted laughter, and all but dragged Wesley back out to the dance floor. Kinda terrible but fantastically upbeat pop music was blaring, and Wesley took both of their hands and engaged in some cringe-worthy dancing that the girls were thoroughly enjoying, judging by the giant grins on their little faces.

Lissa took the time to catch her breath from her ballroom-dash and couldn't resist surveying the room. Several of the Selected now had their eyes trained on the prince, and she could see many of the girls with dreamy gazes and heart-eyes on their faces. Lady Nikoli and Lady Alyex looked especially interested, as did Lady Eleanor and Lady Vera, to a lesser degree. Lissa also Joseph standing with some of the other upper-tier servants, though he was looking at her. He tried to mouth something across the room to her, but she pretended not to notice.

When the music changed, Evie and Sophie rushed back to her, and she immediately knew something was up by the devilish look in their eyes. Wesley trailed behind them, his neck flushed. He slipped out of his suit jacket.

"We have a request!" Sophie announced, before turning to Wesley with an expectant glance. Evie tugged on his shirt sleeve.

"And what would that be?" Lissa played along.

Both girls looked up at their uncle, leaving it for him to answer. He avoided Lissa's eyes and rubbed his hand along the back of his head.

"Uhhh, they kinda want me to dance with you," he mumbled, eyes on his shoes.

"Please, Miss Lissa?" The girls begged, bombarding her with all sorts of pleas and promises, jumping up and down like maniacs.

Wesley was grinning at his nieces, that silly, crooked grin that made the skin around his eyes crinkle and his eyes scrunch up, exactly the way she remembered it, even if she didn't want to.

Neither of them wanted to be the first to say yes, but the onslaught by the princesses was getting stronger.

Lissa kept her eyes on Evie and Sophie, "Only if you guys promise not to make a fuss and go straight to bed when your mom says it's bedtime."

"We promise!" they chorused, giggling too excitedly to get much else out. Evie turned to Wesley. "Uncle Wesley?"

And then he looked at Lissa, finally.

Only for a second, before his gaze darted away. He cleared his throat and then held out his hand to her before making eye contact again.

"I suppose we have too. Technically, they rank higher on the heirs-to- the- throne list than I do," he joked, but the flush on his neck deepened.

It was just one dance. Surely anyone could handle just one dance. It was a ball.

"Technically, I'm still on duty, so their wish is my command," Lissa replied, meeting his eyes. She took his offered hand, tighter than probably necessary, but she wasn't sure she would find the courage to take it again if she let go.

And then, of course, _of course,_ the wild pop music that had been playing during Wesley's dance with his nieces, and for like the last thirty minutes chose that exact moment to change to something slow and romantic and maybe she couldn't handle just one dance.

They stood there for probably a bit too long, not sure what to do, until Wesley just smiled and led her to join the other dancers, and acted like nothing had ever happened, not the music, and not them.

He put his hand on her waist like they had never met before, careful to keep his hand on the fabric part of her dress and not her bare skin, and she put her hand on his shoulder, looking everywhere else but at him. They swayed a little in time to the music, taking little awkward steps. Lissa was glad it wasn't anything fancy, she had forgotten anything dance-wise she had learned during her own time in Ethan's Selection.

After a bit of silence, Wesley spoke up. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk the first night of the Selection at the reception. And for…ruining your date the other day. Downtown. The shorts. The entire population filming it. That was not one of my finer moments, was it?"

"It's okay," Lissa said quickly. She could feel his pulse pounding underneath her fingers as she gripped his hand. She looked back over to where Evie and Sophie were watching them, delighted grins on their faces, and nodded in their direction. "I think they're enjoying this a little too much."

"It's just…why are you dating Joseph?" Wesley didn't follow her diversion. Not at all. "He's kind of a total jerk."

Lissa finally forced her eyes to go back to his. "Wes," she sighed, using the nickname before she even thought about it. "Please. Don't."

Everything about this was too similar. The way the golden lights washed over the Great Room, the press of bodies around them, the feel of his hand in hers, even her dress.

It was all too similar to that night.

The night of their shared birthday, the masquerade ball, the first rebel attack.

The night he saved her from the rebels, more than once.

The night he told her he loved her.

But that haunted look in his eyes, the dark sleepless bruises, that was new. The remaining Selected were new, her boyfriend standing somewhere behind them was new.

Wesley gripped her hand tighter, and Lissa fought against the urge to pull away and to pull herself closer.

Some things hadn't changed at all, she realized. But they would never be those kids again. Because now, he wasn't just that crazy kid who would wear a tuxedo mask to a ball and make them all play sardines.

Now, he was staring at her, and those haunted, sleepless eyes were asking her to save him.

"Because-" he began, his voice choked, "it's just that…every time I see you with him, there's this part of me that tears into two and inside…I just _die_."

"Don't. Please, Wes. Don't." Lissa begged. "It's not—it's not your problem anymore. We grew up, remember?"

He looked at her, _really_ looked at her, and the gaze burned into Lissa, and she wished nothing had ever changed.

"I know. Actually, I don't. I don't know why!" he started talking faster and faster, "But I can't...I can't forget! Because every time I thought I was going to die up north I would get this little memory stuck in my head of you, and it won't go away. I see you with Joseph and something happens-I'm back there, and oh God, Drake _died_ and it's _my fault_ and _I_ almost died and sometimes I wish I did and we're dead we're dead we're dead and I can't sleep and the memories never go away and sometimes it's so real I don't know what's real and what's not and…" Wesley blinked away the wet in his eyes, and he looked so lost, "Lis, I think I'm losing my mind."

Her heart broke.

She had seen him freaked out at the opening reception, but he had played it off as nerves and alcohol. And she had thought he was okay. And she had been so _mad_ at him for what he had said, what he had thought about her…she hadn't even watched out for him. For one of the best people she had ever known, who had changed her life, who she had _loved._

"Oh, Wes," she whispered, pressing herself closer in their dance if only to hug him. He leaned forward, the side of his face pressed into her hair. She could hear him breathing hard and ragged, and wrapped her arm tighter around his back.

"Hey," she said softly into his ear. "Wherever you are, it's okay. You can come back from it. Whatever happened to you up there, whatever the world looks like now, that's not how it always looks. That's not how it's always going to look, you hear me? There's always more."

Wesley didn't respond aside from trying-not-to-cry sounds, and she didn't make him. She just held him tight, so they wouldn't fall down, and they just stood there and swayed a little, like all the other dancers, stuck in their own world, where time was frozen and no one had their heart broken or got left behind or anything.

The music ended, and the Great Room was getting brighter. Someone was doing that thing where you click a knife against a glass, calling for a toast or something.

Wesley raised his head, and Lissa let go of his hand and moved the arm around his back. The lights were up now and it probably wouldn't look good embracing the prince having a Selection, even if there was nothing between them anymore.

"I should go," she said, nodding over to where they were earlier, "the girls…" she took a step away, but Wesley reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Look, I know that we didn't last and that everything changed, but…what if I never forget you? What if, all my life, when I meet someone new, I can never fall for them because they aren't you?"

The words tumbled out of him a rush and he looked just as surprised that he had said them as she was to hear them.

"What?" she stammered. "What do you mean?"

"I—"

Lissa looked behind her, but she didn't see Evie and Sophie. She saw Lady Eleanor and Lady Alyex, and several others. She saw Queen Francesca watching them. She saw Joseph staring at her, his arms crossed.

"I didn't mean-" Wesley tried to explain but Lissa yanked her arm away.

"I have to go. I'm sorry, Wesley," she walked as fast as she could the other direction.

Andrew and Christine had collected both of the girls, and the royal family was standing together on the raised platform in the back of the Great Room, without Wesley. Andrew was making some speech about the war, and the hard cost of victory, and asking those who had fought to come forward but Lissa didn't listen. She ignored her governess responsibilities, she ignored Joseph, she ignored her friends, she just ran to the doors and pushed past them.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

The Main Hall was empty and Lissa's steps faltered as she left the noise of the Great Room behind her, her heels echoing loudly on the marble floors. She wrapped her arms around herself and stopped in the middle of it all.

Wesley wasn't even supposed to _be_ here. She was just supposed to work here and not ever see him again.

And then she was going to be okay without him. And everything had been going so well, with Joseph, with her job, her friends.

And he was so utterly broken and lost and maybe somewhere there was this tiny part of her that still cared for him—

The doors opened behind her, and Lissa heard footsteps. She didn't have to turn to know that it was Wesley, and the realization made her grit her teeth against the emotion that threatened to break apart inside her.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, keeping her back to him, "you're supposed to be in there."

There was the sound of a step closer. "Lissa, what's wrong? Is there a problem? Because if it's me-"

"Yes," Lissa cut him off, crossing her arms tightly around herself. "Why did you have to say that?"

"I don't know!" Wesley gestured wildly. "I don't know anything anymore!"

"I'm not prepared for that!" she spun around to face him and couldn't stop herself from shouting the words, though she hated the thick-about-to-angry-cry way her voice sounded. "Despite what you think, my life does not revolve around you. It wasn't supposed to be like this!"

Wesley didn't respond, leaving her words echoing in the empty corridor.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this for me either," he finally said, eyes on the ground. "I don't know why…I don't know why I said what I did, but the way you held me, the way you looked at me…everything felt so _right._ It was like everything was going to be okay. I can't remember what peace is supposed to be like, but I think it feels a lot like you. And I'm not sure I can ever forget that."

Lissa took a step closer to him, but she stopped there.

"I won't ever forget you either. But maybe that's the only forever the two of us together were ever meant to have."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess you're right."

Another silence stretched between them, but neither of them filled it with the words they wanted to really say.

"I think you should tell someone, about what you've been dealing with," Lissa said. "Someone who knows more than me. Elvira or Ethan or…one of the Selected, I guess."

He only nodded as he nudged the toe of his shoe on the floor.

"I should go," Lissa said.

"No, you deserve to enjoy yourself," Wesley piped up, rubbing his shadowed eyes. "I wasn't having that great of a time anyway. I think I'm just going to crash now. I've got lots to do tomorrow."

"No," Lissa pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "That's not what I meant. I don't think I should stay here anymore. At the palace. It would just be too hard. For both of us."

He looked at her for a long moment and then nodded just the slightest.

"We were always going to say goodbye again, weren't we?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Wesley glanced up, meeting her eyes. "I loved you though, back then. I loved you so much."

"I know, I know," she whispered, fighting back the lump growing in her throat. "I loved you too."

Lissa turned away before he could see the tears in her eyes. Anything left unsaid now would have to stay that way. She could leave tonight, it would be easier than explaining to Joseph and Gracie and everyone else. She picked up the skirt of her gown and hurried up the stairs.

The longer she stayed the harder it would be to go.

"Wait—"

Lissa stopped, only making just past the first landing. She looked down at Wesley. For a moment she thought she had made it up in her head.

"I—" he began. "I want you to stay. You shouldn't have to leave on account of me. You have a great job, a great place to live," his voice fell a bit, "a boyfriend." He looked at her dead in the eyes. "I can't take that away from you just because we're a little awkward around each other. Please, don't leave."

She smiled at him before she could stop herself. "Really?"

Wesley cleared his throat. "Yes, really! I couldn't very well let my niece's favorite governess leave, now could I? I'd never hear the end of it. Besides, both of us have a lot left to live for, and we shouldn't stand in each other's way. Just because everything is different now…well, it shouldn't change me and you. We can still be friends."

He laughed it off like it was nothing. And back in that ballroom was her boyfriend and all of his Selected, and his mother and his birthright, and her fear and hesitation.

But he was looking at her like she was something worth looking at. And that wasn't a way she'd been looked at before.  
Lissa made her decision.

"Okay. I'll stay. But not for you. For me."

He grinned from below the stairs and held out his hand to her. Lissa hesitated. She had tried this before and so far she had survived. It wasn't about Wesley. It was about her. The next thing she knew her feet were carrying her back down the stairs, and she was shaking his hand in a pact.

"Friends?" he asked.

Lissa nodded. "Friends."

And off they went, back into the Great Room, as friends. Even if nothing could ever change between them.

…

 **Another announcement that kinda sucks: So…I'm extremely excited because about 3 weeks ago (another delay to this chapter), I was offered a job to work out in Yellowstone National Park, and I have accepted, but it's a six-month position until October, and I leave next week. I'm not going to say that this is the last update until then, because I will have internet access and I'm bringing my laptop, but it's a 40 hour a week job and I don't want to spend my days off writing when I'm in such a cool place. I plan on still writing because I love it but expect (even more) update time and probably shorter chapters for now.**


	17. Still Feel The Same Around You

**HI FAM! I'M ALIVE!**

 **I started this chapter sitting by the Yellowstone River back in April after running from bison I thought were bears and I just now got around to finishing it. Between working in the park and exploring it and hiking over 100 miles, I just haven't had time, plus this chapter gave me so much trouble with transitions. It's not my best work, nor is it very long, but at least it's something!**

 **In other news, this story reached it's one year birthday a few months ago, and I did too! I've been writing some of these characters since I was sixteen and now I'm twenty-one so idk how I feel about that.**

 **Special thanks to my lovely reviewers:** mnbvcxz-xx, Miss Kaydence, Lizcran, RunawayGirl8125, delovlies, Nameless, **and all my guests! Thanks for sticking with me my dudes.**

 **...**

"Whoever scheduled this date is dead to me," Wesley mumbled to no one as he trudged down the stairs, clomping in his oversized riding boots. "Dead. To. Me."

Strike One: It was the day after the Victory Ball and that event had lasted well into the early hours of the morning, so he was running on three hours of sleep.

Strike Two: There were four girls he was supposed to get to know which was kind of a lot.

Strike Three: Someone on his Selection committee thought it was a good idea to schedule a date playing polo, and Wesley had never been good around horses, that was always more Ethan's thing than his.

Oh, he could go on all day about the grievances he had against this date, but he didn't have time. He was already late because no one told he was being forced to go on a date until thirty minutes ago when his mom had barged into his room to ask why he wasn't at his date. He wasn't hungover, due to her stupid policies, but that didn't mean he wasn't tired from staying up most of the night.

So now, he was wearing some stupid sporty horseback riding clothes, hella late for a date that he couldn't even remember who it was with. He made a mental note to never talk to any of the Selection coordinators/literally everyone left over from Ethan's Selection ever again. Jerks.

The sun was annoyingly bright and even though it was early, it was already hot. Wesley groaned loudly, and made his way to the stable area, though he had some trouble because he never

went over there.

When he finally made it over there, there was a small cluster of girls that appeared to be his dates, waiting by fence that overlooked the fence paddock. None of them were talking, which already made this bad. There was Piper, with her back to him, watching the horses. She was dressed more casually than the other girls, in ratty jeans and a white tee shirt, but she looked at home here, probably as close to her old life as an exercise rider as she could get.

Ophelia greeted him with a smile, her warm brown complexion complemented with her white riding pants and lavender button-down shirt with a white vest and shiny black boots. Her voluminous hair was slicked back into a tight bun.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," Wesley said in greeting, grimacing.

Ophelia shook her head. "It's okay," she said, "it's a gorgeous day,"

The girl standing next to her, Lady Dresden, wasn't so forgiving.

She rolled her eyes, dark, intimidating and half-hidden behind her long lashes. Even though the ladies had been at the palace for a few weeks now, her frame was still ribbon thin, disguised by a brown leather jacket and black pants.

"Yeah," she began, "it's fine. We're just here for your entertainment anyway, right?"

Piper turned away from the horses, and her eyes flitted to Wesley's but as usual, the quiet girl didn't say anything. Ophelia shot Dresden a look, but no one said anything.

The last girl, Lady Valette, remained quiet and avoided eye contact. But then again, he'd never had a good history with her and her family, since the failure of the government to extract the Indian ambassador and his wife and daughter, Valette, during the rebellion in Whites.

Wesley cleared his throat. "Right then," he said. Four pairs of eyes stared blankly at him.

"Uh, shall we?" he stammered.

"What exactly are we doing?" Ophelia asked, stepping forward. "All I've gathered was something to do with horses."

"We are," he gestured vaguely out to the paddocks, "playing polo! Isn't that great!"

Piper's face lit up, and Ophelia forced a small smile.

"That sounds…exciting!" she said, looking rather nervous.

"Sport of the rich, huh?" Dresden grumbled, "Sounds expensive."

Valette looked sideways at her, tucking her thick black hair behind her ears. She crossed her arms over herself.

"It is," Valette said.

Quiet descended over the group and Wesley cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Right, well let's get started, then?"

Ophelia stepped forward until she was right next to him. "I can't wait!" she beamed, enthusiastic enough to make up for the others. That's probably what she was doing, Wesley gathered. She felt sorry for him.

He took it anyway, and lead the four girls into the stable, trying to look like he knew what he was doing. One of the grooms took pity on him and led them through the maze that was the airy stalls that made up the stables.

"Even the horses lived better than I did," Dresden muttered under her breath. Wesley ignored her and turned to Ophelia who was walking next to him.

"Have you ever been horseback riding?"

She wrinkled her nose in a grimace that was pretty cute. "Is it that obvious?"

"It's okay," he said, "honestly I think I was like ten the last time I went, I don't remember anything except the pony they had for me was totally and thoroughly evil. I tried to feed him a carrot and he bit me."

Ophelia smiled, her warm smile glowing on her face. "I guess he didn't know you were a prince."

In spite of the disaster that was this date so far, Wesley smiled back. "Obviously!" he joked. "Nah, horses have always been more Ethan's thing."

"I remember watching all that on the Report when I was younger. It all seemed like a fairytale then. I still can't believe I'm actually here."

"Yeah, well most of it," he mumbled. Ophelia didn't say anything else.

Dammit.

The groom took them to one of the back paddocks where there were five horses, saddled and ready, being held by their handlers.

They sure were a lot bigger up close.

He saw Piper break into a grin, and she seemed to hold herself back.

"Lady Piper, do you approve of the date activity?" he teased. She met his eyes, and nodded vigorously.

The grooms that seemed to be everywhere led the horses up to the ladies, seemingly already assigned.

"Your Highness, you'll be riding Moe today," one of them told him, holding out the reins of a massive black horse with big white socks that emphasized his gigantic hooves.

"Oh, Moe, right. Of course," Wesley stammered. He looked around, more than a little embarrassed. Piper had already gotten on her horse, a smaller white one, but the others were still getting instructed on how to mount.

"So I'll just...uh,"

"Put your foot in the stirrup," the groom instructed.

"I know, I know!" Wesley snapped, before hefting his foot up into the stirrup in the least graceful manner. He stopped, leg stretched way too high.

"Now just swing yourself-"

"I know how how to do it."

He jumped a little and got halfway on the horse, before he found himself on the ground again. The groom was wise enough to not say anything.

He was more successful on the second try, though by then all the girls were mounted and had probably witnessed his ordeal in its entirety. He didn't dwell on his embarrassment, partly because he had realized that being on a horse was slightly terrifying, and by slightly, he meant very.

Piper, on the other hand, looked completely at ease, and the usual reservation that surrounded the quiet girl seemed to have dissipated. In the sunshine, her blonde hair was lit up with strands of almost white. The usual lines of tension in her body were relaxed as she stroked her horse's mane. She looked up, and Wesley realized he'd been staring. He quickly tried to appear preoccupied with the horse or anything else, but her big blue eyes made him linger a moment more. She flushed, and tension was back.

Yeah, the date wasn't going too well.

Thankfully, the grooms took initiative and lead the five riders, saving him from having to control the horse, which would have been a nightmare and a half. Wesley didn't know the layout of the stables before and he certainly hadn't been down here since he'd gotten back, but they ended up in an open area, a large grassy space behind the gardens, bordered on three sides by paddock fences and one by the edge of the garden, with a wall of rose bushes and a fountain that was happily spouting water.

By the time they made it there, Piper was easily riding on her own. Dresden still looked indifferent, and Valette looked marginally happier than she had been. Ophelia met his eyes as he took stock of his dates, and pressed her lips into a smile.

"It's not so bad," she said, sounding a little shaky but still managing to look excited. And really cute.

"It basically is just sitting, isn't it?" Wesley let out a bark of nervous laughter.

"That's what it boils down to, I suppose." She said. "It could be worse."

She was right. At least no one was trying to kill him, he wasn't expecting to die at any moment, not getting shot at or flying aircraft over enemy territory with nowhere to hide.

"It could be a lot worse," he agreed. Ophelia glanced at him, her dark lashes almost hiding her warm brown eyes. She smiled again, but this time it seemed more forced, almost fake.

They decided that Piper and Valette would be on one team, as Piper was obviously the only one of them that knew how to ride, and Valette had taken lessons as a child. Dresden wasn't too happy being on the same team as Wesley, but she could deal with it, he decided. Most of the first round consisted of them just trying to stay on their horses, and get them to move where they wanted to. They were nice, quiet horses but Wesley was still terrified. Even Moe's gentle nature was starting to be tested when he kept jerking the reins, and going faster than a slow stroll made him feel like he was about to fall off.

"This isn't really working," Valette stated, frowning, as usual as she watched Piper dismount yet again to fetch the ball that Ophelia had punted into the bushes. Her raven-colored hair was starting to escape from it's ponytail and she was looking rather disheveled.

"As long as the prince is enjoying himself," Dresden snarked.

Oh, he was definitely _not_ enjoying himself, that was for sure. His ass hurt, his pride hurt, and he was two seconds away from being trampled to death by a massive animal or at least shattering his tailbone. Or at least something like that.

Dresden glared at him from atop her horse, and he wished he was anywhere else. This stupid, stupid popularity contest. It was all a big show anyway. He hadn't missed the camera crew trying to be subtle as they filmed from a distance away.

"Maybe you should try a little harder then, Lady Valette."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He kept his tone pleasant, but the barb was unmistakable.

The ambassador's daughter's mouth dropped open, and her eyebrows shot up into the air.

"Excuse me?"

Wesley didn't have a reply this time. But he didn't have to.

"You heard him. He said you should try a little harder."

It was Piper who saved him, saying the longest sentence he had ever heard her say, though just as quiet as before.

Valette's eyes turned to daggers as she turned her attention onto the blonde. She opened her mouth to make a comeback, but nothing came out.  
"This is ridiculous," she managed after a moment. With only a moderate struggle, she got her horse to turn around and trot back to the barn. No one said anything.

"Well, at least now the teams are even!" Ophelia said, breaking the silence. "She was being bitchy anyway."

Dresden, who in Wesley's opinion was being bitchy too, rolled her eyes, and moved her horse over to Piper.

"The teams are better, too," she said under her breath. Wesley still heard it.

He looked at Ophelia. She smiled cheerfully at him, but it still seemed forced.

They continued playing, although most of that was them just trying to ride. Piper managed to score a goal, she was the only person who could actually ride, though she wasn't very good at the polo part. It was the lack of riding skills that allowed her to get past Wesley and score the goal. Dresden continued to be cold and angry, and Ophelia stayed amiable, even though she struggled with even getting her horse to stop snacking on the grass and move forward. She finally managed to actually hit the ball, but it soared out of bounds and into the neighboring horse paddock.

She shot a sheepish glance at Wesley. "I promise I didn't mean to do that."

"Nobody's perfect, Ophelia," he teased. "I mean, I always perfectly hit the ball every time and I'm also an expert rider in case you haven't noticed."

She laughed and Wesley pulled his horse to a stop as Piper scrambled off to go after the ball, glad for the momentary break. His ass was killing him. He laid the bat-stick thing across his lap, and slouched down in the saddle.

It was then he saw them.

They were just strolling through the gardens, without a care in the world. Evie and Sophie were both holding flowers, skipping along the pathway. Lissa was a few feet behind them. She was wearing a pretty pale pink sundress and white heels, nothing compared to the gown she had on last night at the ball. Her hair fell in soft waves around her face and despite the tiredness that was smudged under her eyes, probably due to last night, she looked-

She looked really, really happy.

And Wesley found himself longing to be there, walking next to her, to be the reason she was happy. He remembered what that peace had felt like, last night, when he held her in his arms and they pretended to be strangers.

He could never forget that. And more than anything, he didn't want that to be their only forever, even if that was impossible now.

"Prince Wesley!"

Ophelia's voice drew him back to the game, but not before he noticed Lissa look towards him. Piper had retrieved the ball, and was back on her horse. Dresden managed to hit the ball fairly hard, and it was spinning through the grass towards their goal. Ophelia was back on the opposite side, leaving only Wesley to stop Dresden.

Game-induced panic rushed through him as he realized, and he jerked hard on Moe's reins in response. His horse tossed his head into the air, ear flat against his head, and took several steps backwards.

"Hey, not that way!" Wesley protested, pulling harder on the reins. Moe snorted, and turned abruptly, now thoroughly confused about which way he was supposed to go. Wesley kicked him forward, leaning to one side as he lowered his stick to stop Dresden from scoring a goal. Moe took off with a little hop and broke into a canter that Wesley was not prepared for. He almost lost his seat, and tried to stop Moe, which his limited horse skills of course did by yanking on the reins. Moe threw his head into the air, and skidded to a stop, but it was just enough to make Wesley lose his balance.

Dresden trotted past them, and hit the ball right into the goal as Moe stopped short, sending Wesley out of the saddle, flying over his head, and landing directly into the fountain.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Wesley felt his chest contract as he tried to breathe but it didn't seem to work...

He was lying on the floor of a plane as they took off, narrowly escaping with their lives. He could hear Drake yelling, and he could see blood all over the floor and the seat around them. But he couldn't breathe.

All he heard was there horrible, raking sounds. All he felt was the cold…

And someone was giggling.

Wesley opened his eyes, and spewed water out of his mouth as he sat up. The breath had been knocked out of him, and he coughed a little as he pushed his wet hair out of his eyes.

He pushed the memories away too, reminding himself of where he was. It was only the water that was cold. He was okay. He was alive.

Piper was standing next to the fountain, holding the lead rope of her horse and a very disgruntled looking Moe. A smile had broken through her usually silence, and she was laughing, very softly. It was the first time he had ever seen her do so.

"Oops," he said.

"Wes!"

It was a startled cry, and he turned to look where it had come from. Because none of his dates here would have called him that.

Lissa was running across the grounds, holding tightly onto Evie and Sophie on each side of her. How she could run through the grass in heels was beyond him.

"Are you okay?" she asked breathlessly, coming to a stop next to the fountain. She let go of the girls, and knelt down next to him.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

He wasn't capable of saying anything else. Because he remembered.

It seemed like a lifetime ago, and it very well could have happened to a different person. He had cheekily kissed her, hiding from the others in the gardens at Trentoworth, and then ran off through the gardens, where she had taunted him with another so she could push him into a fountain. That time, he had pulled her in after him and they had kissed some more, just silly kids hyped up on hormones or something.

There could have been a hundred people there in the palace gardens, and Wesley never would have noticed any of them in that moment. The way her green eyes were locked onto his, the warmth of her hands as she touched his arm, it was like they were the only two people in the world. He certainly wasn't going to pull her in this time.

But he wouldn't mind kissing her.

His gaze fell to her lips.. Lissa's eyes widened ever so slightly, and and he found himself leaning forward-

"Prince Wesley, what happened?" Ophelia came running up, having ditched her own horse. Lissa shot to her feet, her face flaming. She seemed to notice the other girls for the first time. Dresden was watching from close by, smirking.

"Okay, so maybe I'm not as good at riding as I thought I was," Wesley said, getting his feet under him and grabbing the side of the fountain. He stood up, sending a wave of water over the side, that splashed all over Lissa and Ophelia's shoes.

He swung one leg over the side, and ended up falling back into the water. Ophelia jumped back with a little shriek as more water flew everywhere.

"Careful, it's slippery there," Wesley sputtered, trying to maintain some of the few shreds of dignity he had left. He stood again, and Lissa grabbed his arm. Water streamed off his shirt sleeve, and her already splattered dress was getting wetter by the second. She steadied him as he stepped over the edge and got safely back onto dry land, but quickly let go, and stepped back.

"Whew. That was an adventure," he joked. Piper covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stifle her laughter at this point, and Ophelia grinned at him. Dresden was actually laughing now, she was enjoying it so much.

Wesley patted Moe tentatively on his neck. "Thanks for that, buddy."

"Uncle Wesley, you fell into the fountain!" Evie cried, as she and sister scampered up to him.

"You're all wet!" Sophie chimed in.

"Yeah honey, I noticed," he said, before purposely shaking his wet mop of hair so the little princesses got sprinkled. They squealed and dashed off.

Wesley turned to his dates. "You guys mind if we don't play anymore?"

"Scarred for life?" Ophelia teased.

Wesley chuckled. "Something like that."

As the girls turned their attentions back to getting on their horses, Wesley turned away for a second. He let out a long breath, and breathed in deeply through his nose.

It had been easier, this time, to push away the memories and come back to reality. But they were still there, still just behind him. His heart was racing more than it should, and if he closed his eyes, he might open them again and find himself back up north.

"Hey, Wes. It's okay."

Lissa's voice was soft behind him. He turned and saw her standing there, her face still flushed. Her shoes were soaked, and there were wet spots all over her dress.

"You handled it well," she continued, attempting a smile.

"Yeah, well I think I'll leave horseback riding to Ethan from now on."

She smiled, a sad sort of smile.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Lissa. Really. You don't have to keep asking me that," He raked his hand through his wet hair.

Her eyes locked on his for a few seconds longer. "You weren't fine last night. The things you told me, what you said," she took a step closer and he could smell her perfume and it was making his head spin. "Wes, you're not fine."

"I am. I am fine," he blurted out, and hurried to where Moe was waiting. As much as he wanted to, if he stayed that close to her much longer, he was pretty sure he might try to kiss her and that would be really embarrassing not to mention scandalous.

Despite what he had told her, he was never, ever going to forget her.

He didn't dare try to keep riding, instead he led Moe back to the stables, joining his three remaining dates.

It was time to take the Selection seriously. One of these girls was going to be his wife one day, and a whole lot of history with Lissa Dove wasn't going to change that the slightest.


	18. Sign of the Times

**HIIII EVERYONE!**

 **This chapter's been in the works for a good long while but it had a lot of transitions and those always get me so it took me forever. In other news, I made it through my Yellowstone experience alive so hopefully I can get back to updating a lot more regularly.**

 **Thank you to my lovely reviewers,** Miss Kaydence, Lizcran, Virtue01, Nameless, mnbvcxz-xx, RunawayGirl8125, suicideblonde99, delovlies, bibliophile609 **!**

 **This chapter is hella all over the place and I don't have the guts to go back and do too much editing. I meant to do all the characters, but then it would be even longer than it already is and it would probably take me another two months plus it probably would get boring.**

 **-shades**

…

He had forgotten how bright the lights were.

Wesley swallowed back nerves and pulled at the sleeves of his suit jacket. Sweat poured down his sides and his tie squeezed against his throat, and he wanted to be anywhere but here. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and fiddled with his sleeves some more. He was so damn jittery.

Another light was switched on, and Wesley flinched.

Coward.

But he couldn't help it.

The lights. The noise.

Something about it brought him back, back to that warehouse in Yukon, a place he hoped he never would see again. The place where Mitch Levi had brought them, his family and the few remaining girls from Ethan's Selected. The helicopters, the compound lights illuminating the rainy night. The place where he had first seen men die. The place where he had seen his own father executed, right in front of him.

'"Wesley? Wesley! Hey, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" Wesley blinked as Nicole snapped her fingers in front of his face. "What?"

His sister-in-law rolled her eyes. She had been there too, he remembered.

"All of the ladies are going to get exclusive interviews tonight, with you up there with them. This is really important," Nicole said, fixing a stern gaze on him. "You need to not play any favorites. Your mother says its time for another elimination soon, you have nineteen girls left, and your last few dates haven't gone very well. The media is still roasting you for falling into the fountain the other day..."

"In other words, the pressure's on," he said, running his hand through his hair.

Nicole batted his hand away. "Stop that! You're going to mess it up!"

"Okay, okay!" Wesley held up his hands in defense. "Why is this so important?"

"Everyone keeps saying that you're not taking this seriously."

"I'm trying my best!" he protested. "What's with you tonight?"

Nicole cocked an eyebrow and put her hand on her hip. She looked like a fairy tale princess in her empire-waisted pale pink gown, covered in tiny rhinestones, but there was murder in her eyes.

"Look, I'm pregnant and hormonal, I don't have time to deal with your shit. I swear, Wesley, sometimes you're worse than Jamie and he's two. And your mother has been on us like a hawk to get this chaos of a Selection into order."

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's a lot harder than I thought it would be." Before he could touch his hair, Nicole stopped him with a death glare.

"I get it. But tonight's really important, and you need to be on your best behavior. Now, keep in mind, Lady Fallon's birthday is coming up, so we'll have to plan for that soon, which would be ideal if you could actually do _something_ with her, because that's what ninety nine percent of Atlin wants to see. Lady Eleanor has a lot of supporters too, so you should plan a date with her soon."

"Right, got it. Fallon and Eleanor."

"And don't forget about Lady Callista, Lady Eleanor, and Lady Vera, you haven't done anything with them, so pay them extra attention tonight."

Wesley looked at the stage. Usually on Reports he just sat there and looked pretty with the rest of the fam, but tonight, he was going to be right there in full spotlight, and every single thing he said and did would be broadcasted live.

Plus, he had to do it with all the Selected. Right there.

He was going to have to marry one of them.

"Uh, Nicole, I don't think I can do this," he said, starting to feel sick to his stomach.

She put her hand on his arm, and her eyes softened. "Yes, you can."

He looked over to where they were standing around with snacks and drinks, waiting for the call to go backstage. All dressed up and looking beautiful.

His stomach tightened, and there suddenly wasn't enough oxygen in the room. Panic was starting.

"No, no, no, you don't understand. I _can't_ do this." He pushed away the memories that were racing towards him, but he couldn't fight all of them. He squeezed his eyes shut against images of the warehouse, of Mitch raising the gun, of his father-

"Wesley?" Nicole's voice was soft now, and all her earlier fire was gone. She touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He gritted his teeth. Get it together, Wes.

Opening his eyes, Wesley looked up. But he didn't see Nicole.

His eyes almost automatically went to Lissa, handing off Evie and Sophie to Christine. She stuck out in her work clothes, compared to everyone else in evening finery. Aside from the camera crew, she was the only person there that wasn't part of the royal family or the Selected, of course, as the other children's nannies had left them with their parents. She smiled as she said something to Christine, and then reached down to oblige Evie a hug as the little girl pestered her.

All around him, the faces of the Selected blurred together. Whatever Nicole was saying to him, the conversation of the camera crew, and the sounds of everyone else faded. More stage lights were flipped on, but for a moment, he only saw her.

And just for that second, everything was okay.

He watched her, back to oblivious to whatever Nicole was saying and whatever was going on. Yeah, that might make him a stalker, but at the moment he didn't care. The way she brushed the hair out of her eyes when she nodded her head, the way she tilted her head just slightly when she talked to Christine.

How she bit her lip as she turned to say her farewells for the day.

And then she was gone, slipping out of the doors, and leaving the studio.

A loud noise, the sound of the buzzer, went off, signaling that it was time for everyone to take their places, and the broadcast would begin shortly.

Wesley flinched.

Coward.

...

He was sweating bullets.

Wesley was sure that the microphone pinned to his suit jacket lapel could pick up the pounding of his heart as the host of the Report introduced the broadcast. She was new, as they had only begun filming the Reports in the last few months, and the few before Wesley's Selection was announced was filled with updates on the peace negotiations with the northern provinces and the rebuilding of the country. Only recently had they become more lighthearted, fighting back against whatever illicit sources leaked the latest catastrophe that was this Selection.

Rebecca Jackson was young, rather inexperienced, but beautiful and charismatic and popular among the people.

And she was making Wesley very, very nervous.

"And first up, enjoying the spotlight with our Prince Wesley, we have our local girl from Angeles, Lady Iris!" Rebecca all but shouted. Wesley was already sitting on the stage, just behind Rebecca, across from her chair. His family was seated off stage a little behind them, but still on camera. Iris came from backstage, all the cameras trained on her.

It gave him a little comfort that she looked just as nervous as him, though probably a lot more pretty that he did right now. Her dress was white, coming to above her knees. It was made out of lace, fitting close to her body with long sleeves that flared out above her elbow. She sat down next to him, tucking her short black hair behind her ears. She had a smile pasted on her face but up close she looked downright terrified.

As he'd been instructed to, he stood up to greet her, and gave her a polite kiss on the cheek, which made her blush pink.

"Hey," he whispered. Her eyes met his for a moment before they flicked away.

"Hey yourself," she said back. They both took their seats.

As much as he liked Iris, the whole debacle of their date still hung heavy on his mind and made every interaction with her awkward. He just hoped Rebecca wouldn't bring it up.

"So, Lady Iris, tell the people of Illea a little about yourself!" she said brightly.

"I'm from Angeles, as you said," Iris began. Her voice was steady, but Wesley knew she was nervous. She sat with her back straight, hands coiled into tight fists and resting on her knees. "I just moved back there, actually. I spent six years in Japan, but I moved back for college."

"And what are you studying?" Rebecca asked.

"Architecture, mainly. I'm specializing in urban planning," Iris said, unclenching her fists and relaxing a little.

Rebecca turned her attention onto Wesley, "Prince Wesley, what do you think of Lady Iris?"

He hadn't been given any of the questions ahead of time, so he was terribly unprepared.

"Um-" he stammered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Iris watching him.

Get a grip. He told himself. You've been through a lot worse. No one's trying to kill you.

"Lady Iris is very sweet," he managed to come up with. "I really enjoy spending time with her, she's...easy to be around."

It was lame, but then again, this was his personal life and the entire country didn't need to be privy to it.

"You two recently were out together in downtown Angeles, were you not? Lady Iris, what's it like being so close to home while in the Selection?"

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't ask about the incident.

"It seems very far away, honestly," Iris said. "But it's nice to not be so far away."

"It was cool to see where she lives and know the city she grew up in," Wesley added. "I haven't been able to do that when anyone else. I've lived in Angeles all my life, but I know next to nothing about the city."

"Aw, that's sweet," Rebecca continued. "There's a lot of civilian footage emerging from that date, and a lot of people are wondering what happened. Prince Wesley, could you shed some light on it?"

He heard Iris's sharp intake of breath beside him and he gritted his teeth. Underneath his suit jacket, his shirt was soaked with sweat, and it was only the first interview.

He had panicked. He kept seeing memories. They wouldn't leave him alone. He was losing his mind.

But none of those answers would fly very well on live television that only everybody in the country watched.

"Actually, Rebecca," he choked out. "It's more of a private matter, and not one I'm willing to discuss."

The host looked a little shocked. "Alright…" she lost some of her bouncy demeanor but quickly brushed it off. "Lady Iris, what do you say has been your favorite part of the Selection so far?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "It's all so much fun, the clothes, living in the palace, everything!"

"And Prince Wesley, what's your favorite part about Lady Iris in the Selection?"

There were lots of things about Iris that he liked, but he didn't necessarily want to spill them all out on live television. But he also didn't want to come off as a total jerk like he probably already did.  
"Actually, one of the first times I met Iris, her cat ran out of her room, which I then found out she had smuggled into the palace," He told Rebecca. "I ended up sneezing all over her because I'm embarrassingly allergic to cats."

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone I had him!" she protested, touching him lightly on the arm. Then she giggled, and looked away, rolling her lips together, remembering she was on camera.

Wesley looked over at her. "I'm a prince! If you have a cat, I'll make sure you get to keep him!"

Iris grinned at him.

Rebecca asked them a few more generic questions, and then everyone in the studio was clapping as Iris left the seat next to him and Rebecca called the next girl down.

"Up next, we have Lady Lillian!" she announced. For a few precious seconds the spotlight was off him and onto Lillian. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was styled in tousled waves, and her olive-green dress fell to just below her knees, with thin straps and a plunging neckline. She smiled softly at him and took her seat.

"Lady Lillian, welcome!" Rebecca beamed brightly. "All of Illea probably already knows but can you tell us where you are from?"

Lillian calmly crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat. "Of course! I'm from Ottaro."

"And what did you do before joining our Prince Wesley at the palace?"

"I worked in forestry, I studied trees and our environment and helped take care of it," Lillian replied.

"And how are you enjoying your stay in Angeles?"

Lillian glanced at Wesley and smoothed back her hair. "It's very lovely here. Quite different from what I'm used to, though."

"What do you mean?" Rebecca pressed.

"She means that I'm here, she's not used to me," Wesley interrupted, the stupid joke coming out of his mouth before he even thought of it.

Both Rebecca and Lillian looked at him funny and tried to suppress the stupid grin over the stupid joke, but it wasn't going well. Then Lillian giggled.

"I guess you could say that," she said. "All of it is very different, I'm used to being outside in the wild all the time, not being inside in all the glitz and glamour of this place."

"And how do you feel about Prince Wesley?"

"He's very nice," Lillian began. "He's been very kind to me."

"And Prince Wesley, how do you feel about Lady Lillian?" Rebecca asked.

He had been hoping for a little more than "nice" from Lillian, so he didn't exactly have a good answer.

"Lady Lillian gives very good advice," he said. "And she laughs at all the stupid things I say-most of the time," he added. He didn't have the guts to say that she was really pretty, and she had seen him at one of his worst moments so far at the reception and had been courteous about it.

"Lady Lillian, the media and the public have been calling you one of the most beautiful girls of the Selection, how do you feel about that?"

Lillian tipped her chin into the air. "I think all the girls here are beautiful, and personally I don't think people should put so much stock in appearances."

Her tone was clipped, and she seemed offended. She answered many of the next questions about fashion and the palace lifestyle as short and nondescript as possible.

Well shit, Wesley thought. Another girl who was mad.

Lady Reese and Lady Isabella were next, and both of their interviews went very well. Surprisingly, even though sitting next to Lady Darcy was terrifying on all its own, the tiny blonde who was usually so animostic towards him all but purred to Rebecca and sang his praises the whole time. He didn't say much of anything, but hopefully it looked good on camera. He knew Lady Nikoli didn't like him much, but she was polite on camera and it could have gone worse. It mostly him cracking ridiculous jokes, but whatever.

He was glad when Eleanor was announced. She was dressed a bit more formal than the other girls in a tea-length lilac tulle gown, but the delicateness of the dress only made her look more beautiful. Her raven hair was swept up and she looked like a masterpiece. He remembered Nicole telling him to pay her extra attention, but he didn't think that would be difficult.

However, she was wearing Lissa's necklace, the one he had given her, and to see that stung a little bit. As he stood to greet her, she kissed him on the cheek before he even had a chance. She pressed her hand to arm as she did so, and he felt his blood charge. As they sat down, he noticed how pale she was, and then she met his eyes for a second and she looked downright terrified.

Rebecca introduced Eleanor to the camera, announcing that she was from Tammins.

"Now we're going to do something a little different this time," Rebecca teased. "Instead of letting Lady Eleanor tell everyone about herself, we're going to see how much our Prince Wesley knows about some of his Selected!"

Wesley whispered a curse under his breath as he flashed the camera fake smile at the same time. He glanced sideways at Eleanor and was surprised when she grabbed one of his hands, her fingers hot as she twisted hers around his tightly.

"Well," he began, resisting the urge to bolt. He settled for leaning back in his chair instead, trying to loosen Eleanor's grip. "Lady Eleanor is a ballerina. She's very sweet, and I'm glad she got to come when the first girl from Tammins declined," he paused, and the studio was dead silent, everyone wondering what he would say about Eleanor. He remembered her coming up to him and introducing herself at the reception and rescuing him at the Victory Ball to dance with him.

"She's amazing," he began, but hesitated.

"Aw, you're sweet," Eleanor said, pressing the palm of her hand against his arm, her smile crinkling up the corners of her eyes. She was still wearing Lissa's necklace, though how could she know the significance of the thing? She was also always so forward that it caught him off guard. And once he had screwed up at the Victory Ball, as quickly as she had rescued him, she had left him. "I'm very honored to have her here," he finished quickly and formally.

It seemed like Rebecca had been hoping for more, but she had plenty of questions to get what she wanted.

"And you, Lady Eleanor, what do you know about Prince Wesley?"

Eleanor squeezed his hand from between their thighs where she held it captive.

"Well, Rebecca, I can tell you I still have a lot to learn about him, but even in this short amount of time I've learned a lot. He's a very special kind of person, he's so genuine and kind to me, and even being a prince hasn't made him into a snob, which is what I was worried about coming into this. He's got a good head on his shoulders and whenever I see him around the palace, he's such a commanding presence."

Her answer was so perfect, almost as perfect as the way she turned her head to smile at him, her eyes locked on his. Wesley quickly remembered to return it as best he could.

That didn't sound like him at all.

"You two seem to be very close. Lady Eleanor, as far as we know, you are the only girl to have received a gift from the prince so far. Can you tell us a little more about it?"

Eleanor beamed. "Oh! Yes of course!" her hand went to the necklace. "Prince Wesley gave this to me on the night of the reception. I was lost, and he helped me find my room. He's such a gentleman," she gushed.

Unfortunately, he still didn't remember most of that night thanks to getting majorly drunk. He also had no idea what he had been thinking. He had no idea what had happened, but knowing drunk him, he probably would have been just as lost as Eleanor that night.

He let go of her hand.

From next to him there was a sharp intake of breath and she missed Rebecca's next question.

"Sorry?" she said, her voice slightly strained.

"Have you and Prince Wesley been on any dates so far?" Rebecca asked again.

"Oh. No, we haven't. There's a lot of girls here." Eleanor fumbled out an answer.

"Speaking of which," Rebecca turned to him. "Prince Wesley you've already eliminated sixteen girls, and people have been commenting on your harshness and the quickness of your decisions. Are you planning any more eliminations?"

Great. This was going...just great. Wesley managed not to roll his eyes.

"Well, I can only marry one, can't I?"

Things got a little awkward after that, so Rebecca thanked Eleanor and called the next girl down. Valette's interview went about as well as the polo date had, but at least she didn't storm off early. She was civil but brutally honest, and by the time she was done, Wesley was severely uncomfortable. Ophelia was charming and confident though, and she made it easy to engage with her even though they were being interviewed. Alyex giggled a lot and her cheeks were stained with a blush the whole time, and she blushed even harder when he teased her about it, but at least it would look cute on camera. He would have to take her out on a date soon, this time by herself, he decided.

He had been dreading Piper's interview, and for good reason. While she managed to smile as she came out to the stage, when he stood to kiss her cheek and greet her, he saw there were tears in her eyes. She looked scared enough to cry, her hands knotted around the gold detailing of her navy-blue dress. Her mouth was slightly open and sweat beaded on her forehead under the bright lights. She barely seemed to register it when he kissed her cheek, just nervously smoothed her long blonde hair.

Mood, Wesley thought.

He lightly touched her hand before they sat down. Maybe it would give her a little confidence.

She shrank back in her chair as Rebecca bombarded her with questions, barely even saying her name to the camera before asking her about her occupation.

Piper swallowed hard. "Um," she began, very softly. She cleared her throat and the rest came out a little louder. "I just finished high school. I work as an exercise rider at a racetrack."

"Like Lady Nat," Wesley offered, trying to get some attention off Piper. There were some scattered chuckles around the room from the Selected and the royal family.

"Have you met Lady Nat, Lady Piper?" Rebecca asked.

Piper nodded but didn't look like she could say anything.

"And how was it meeting a former Selected?"

"It was really cool, but Nat's a little scary," Wesley chimed in. "Didn't you think so, Piper?"

He finally got a tiny smile out of Piper, and this time she shook her head no.

"Do you like her more than me?" he teased. She shook her head again, smile growing.

"Ooh sounds like you have some competition there," Rebecca said. Wesley and Piper laughed, but he could still see Piper's jaw clenched tight and the fear in her wide eyes. On impulse he draped his arm around her shoulders. Under his hand her spine stiffened, but she didn't pull away or hit him or anything exceptionally embarrassing, so that was good.

Rebecca asked Piper some of the more generic questions, and she answered them as quickly as possible. Wesley tried to help her out, but he just ended up clowning around as usual and looking like a fool.

Fallon was next, and to be honest, he had been dreading her interview too. But surprisingly, she was totally different than he expected. She was calm and professional and courteous. She didn't insult him this time at least, but she wasn't receptive to his camera flirting and barely acknowledged his presence, giving her answers just to Rebecca. He knew he overcompensated on his answers, but maybe it would end up looking good on camera.

Several more interviews passed in a blur, and as the hour stretched on Wesley was looking more and more forward to getting absolutely shitfaced (without letting his mom or his sibling babysitters know of course) when this was over. Veyra's interview was fun, consisting mostly of them joking around together and both laughing hysterically despite trying to remain professional. If he wasn't abso-freaking-louty thoroughly sick of the Selection he might have invited to the Wesley-getting-completely-wasted party, but he decided to save it for another time.

After Callista being surprisingly chill and political at the same time and Dresden being...well, Dresden, only Vera and Georgia had left to go.

Vera sat next to him stiffly after Rebecca called her down, her arms crossed over her nude-pink dress. The little flimsy sleeves covered the scars on her shoulders he noticed at the Victory Ball.

"Hi," he whispered to her as they sat down. She smiled briefly at him. The last time he had talked to her had been at the Victory Ball when they had gotten into each other's history. He hadn't gotten specifics, but if he knew one thing it was that Vera had gone through some major trauma and it still deeply affected her.

At least Rebecca didn't quiz him about Vera, because honestly he knew next to nothing about the blonde girl sitting next to him. Still, she was on Nicole's attention list, so he had to at least try.

He found out she had been on military leave, and she was from Yellowknife in St. George from her basic introduction that Rebecca had her do. She then asked Wesley about his impressions of Vera and how he liked having her at the palace. The only thing he could think of was meeting her at the reception barefoot and carrying her heels with her skirt all bunched up, so she wouldn't trip. Vera seemed a little embarrassed, but hey, it was cute and endearing to him, might as well tell everyone who was way too invested in his personal life anyway.

"How are you liking it here?" Rebecca asked her.

"I'm not used to the heat or the dresses. I despise the dresses. Other than that, everybody's really nice and it's extremely different."

"Why did you sign up for the Selection, Lady Vera?"

Vera pressed her lips together, leaning forward in her chair. "Everybody I knew no longer lives in St. George. There's so many memories and history from what happened there. My entire family fought and now it's just my brother and me. He doesn't cope very well, and I just needed to get away. It's like I'm a constant reminder to Luke of what we lost."

A silence settled over the studio, only Vera's soft voice echoing throughout. Wesley shifted his weight in his seat, bouncing his leg up and down.

"How do you cope with your losses?" Rebecca asked gently.

Vera cleared her throat. "I keep my mind off of it. I try to distract myself, but there are bad and good days. Sometimes I only can feel the white pain of a gunshot wound." she swallowed hard. "That's why I needed to leave St. George. It's always worse there. Too...too many reminders of my family."

The studio was no silent, a far cry from bantering with Iris or his awkward attempts at flirting with Piper.

"Tell us about your family," Rebecca said, softly.

Vera kept her eyes on her lap. "Well it's only been my brother and I for a while. I used to have a sister and brother, though." At this, she broke into a smile. "They were the best kinds of people, those warm and happy people. The kind you want to be around. Whenever they would walk into a room I'd smile. My parents were killed in the war pretty early on…" she trailed off, and Wesley thought Rebecca was wise to not press her anymore.

A somber mood had settled over the studio, so Wesley was glad he only had one interview left. Next to him, Vera was biting her lip, but she tossed her hair back and straightened her shoulders. Her interview had been shorter than the others, but he thought it wise that Rebecca didn't continue.

"Well, we're glad to have you here at the palace, Lady Vera, thank you so much for joining us."

She smiled tightly, and Rebecca turned back to the camera. Wesley took it as a cue to stand, and Vera nodded to him as she took her leave.

"And last, but certainly not least, our last girl of the night is Lady Georgia of Yukon!"

Georgia was actually smiling more than the two centimeters he might have interpreted as a smile before. She practically strutted out onto stage, wearing a velvet red dress with black hose and elbow length black gloves, and of course black heels that had to be at least five inches tall, making her just taller than him.

Like he had with all the others, he knew he had to greet her in the same fashion, but she fixed her amber eyes on him and he got that mouse being hunted by a cat feeling again. He hesitated with one hand halfway extended. But she walked right up to him and pressed her body against his side. Wesley was caught off guard, but he managed to put his hand on her waist for a second and lightly press his lips to her cheek. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke but mostly of intoxicating perfume and hairspray, and her skin was cold, like a porcelain doll.

They sat down, and Rebecca began to ask Georgia the questions all the girls had got, about living in the palace and such. She engaged easily with Rebecca, her voice loud and commanding and she said all the right things. Her face looked weird with a smile, Wesley decided, and it wasn't one that seemed natural. It didn't quite reach her eyes, and they remained dark as ever. It made his skin crawl.

"What are your thoughts on dating Prince Wesley?" Rebecca asked.

Georgia pasted on another smile. "It's very interesting, living in the palace. Wesley's got his own quirks and I've enjoyed getting to know him."

Something made him say it. Something stupid, something out of control, something scared and hurt and he'd never been very good with impulse control anyway.

"I'm not sure I add up to leaders of the rebellion," he said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

For once, Rebecca didn't have anything to say. She just pursed her lips and clamped them into an amiable expression. Georgia fixed her eyes on him and her face went back to normal, no longer contorted into a smile. Then she made a little laughing sound but narrowed her eyes at him.

Rebecca laughed too, and Wesley knew someone would yell at him later for his remark.

"Lady Georgia, you've recently been hailed as a national hero for your work during the war, how does the Selection compare to that?"

"It's different, for sure." Georgia began. "But I find that aspect to be welcoming. I don't see myself as a hero and I never have, so I don't expect glorification here."

"Prince Wesley, you're in a similar situation. You were also a hero in the war, how does coming home and having a Selection measure up to that?"

Dammit, they just wouldn't let up on him.

Hero, my ass.

He gritted his teeth. "It wouldn't be my first choice for activity, that's for sure," he forced out a laugh. "But yeah, like Georgia said, it's different and that's good. But I was never a hero just for being a prince and I think everyone needs to stop calling me that because I wasn't, I never was."

He cut himself off before he launched into a tirade. Better stick to conversation about dates and first impressions.

Rebecca quickly turned back to Georgia. "Are you doing any spying here during your stay in the palace?" she joked.

Georgia obviously didn't think it was funny. "No," she said, voice flat.

Wesley resisted the temptation to just storm out of the studio then and there. Luckily there were no more loaded questions, Rebecca seemed to have gotten the memo that those sucked. He wanted to cry when she finally began to wrap things up, dismissing Georgia and getting the camera to pan on all the girls instead of him. The second things were over, he was off the seat and running out of the studio.

It was raining outside but Wesley slammed the doors to the garden terrace anyway. He did manage to exercise enough self control not to run out in the pouring rain and settled for standing under the overhang of the porch, gulping in great lungfuls of cool air. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the last hour.

As much as he had tried to pretend otherwise, it had been horrible.

He wasn't a hero. He wasn't _right._ He had promised himself he would take it seriously but right now that seemed impossible. He didn't even want this stupid Selection and yet it had been thrust upon him anyway to pretend like everything was okay and he was okay, and it wasn't it wasn't it wasn't.

He sat down on the wet bricks against the wall, pulling his knees up and resting his head in his hands. Blocking out the Selection only made room for other memories, ones that were a lot more painful and dark. Another rainy night.

He heard the doors open and the tap of high heels on the pavement. Great.

They stopped and then a unlit cigarette landed on his lap.

"You look like you could use it."

Georgia stood above him, holding a half-empty box in one hand and a lighter in the other.

He looked up at her, the landscape lighting illuminating her halo of golden curls.

"I know I could," she said.

Wesley picked it up and held it up to her. "Thanks, but my mom would kill me."

She probably would, and though he knew it would give him something to do to calm down, he also thought of his copilot Drake, and how he always smoked when he got nervous. He had picked up the habit too and would bum them off Drake who would tease him relentlessly for being a broke prince. It got tense waiting around for orders sometimes. But he hadn't had one since Drake died.

Georgia shrugged and took it back instead of getting one for herself. She lit it and held it between her index and middle finger as she wrapped her lips around it and inhaled. "It's a disgusting habit anyway." She blew out a stream of smoke and they were quiet.

"You ruined my interview," she said after a moment, lowering the cigarette.

Wesley looked up at her and then back down. "Sorry."

Georgia leaned against the wall and used a red-painted fingernail to tap the ash off the end of her cigarette.

Wesley took a shaky breath and pressed his head back into his hands. Georgia held out the cigarette. "You sure you don't want one?"

This time he took it, and ignored the pink lipstick pressed into the white paper as he drew in a lungful of smoke. He handed it back to her and exhaled. "Thanks."

"I'm trying to cut back anyway." She took a puff and then gave it back to him.

They said nothing, only listening to the soft patter of rain on the plants, glowing in the lights.


	19. When The Air Ran Out

**Ayyyy I think this is the fastest I've updated in a good long while! Thank you** Miss Kaydence, Nameless, delovlies, Lizcran, mnbvcxz-xx, **and** Princess of Ash and Snow **for your kind reviews!**

 **This chapter is cheesy and sappy and I love it. Please indulge my writing needs :)**

 **-Shades**

…

There were times when Lissa loved her new life at the palace immensely. When everything seemed to be going so perfectly and everything was beautiful, with her friends and her dream job by her side and the dream of something even better not far off.

This was not one of those times.

She was curled up on the couch in the small sitting area on the fourth floor with most of the rest of the upper-level staff, wearing her favorite leggings and an old t-shirt. Report nights were always nice because she got off an hour early, but she usually never did anything with that time. She had been coerced into participating with everyone else for their weekly tradition-for that hour and half of filming the Report, the upper staff always came together to watch it.

In Lissa's opinion, a movie night would actually be way more fun, because usually the ladies maids and valets were still in uniform and had to go back right back to work, but she attended anyway. Everyone else always had tons of fun making fun of the Selected and even the royal family, but to Lissa, it was kind of lame. Still, maybe they just needed to blow off some steam roasting the entire program.

Joseph, who had his arm draped over her shoulders, scoffed loudly as Wesley declined to answer a question about what happened in downtown Angeles with Iris.

"He's such a coward, honestly. He would do so much better if he stopped being so secretive about it."

Some of the others agreed, and though Lissa had initially liked them, right now she wished she was hanging out with Gracie. Lissa didn't say anything. She was trying really hard, but lately, Joseph had been getting on her nerves. He would not shut up about how much he hated his job and hated Wesley and couldn't wait to find something else. Joseph squeezed her shoulder and pulled her towards him, so she was leaning against him instead of the couch arm. As much as she wanted to, Lissa didn't pull away.

You like him, remember? She reminded herself.

She was still annoyed. Gracie had wanted her to come to the apartment to watch the Report together while Damian was at work, but Lissa had made an excuse and hung out with Joseph instead. Joseph didn't like Gracie much either.

It was sickening to her to watch Eleanor cozy up to Wesley like they were married already, holding his hand and simpering next to him. Yeah, sure she was completely over him, but she still cared deeply about him, and she could tell that Eleanor would never make him happy.

But then there was that nagging in her head, that reminded her how his words about never forgetting her at the Victory Ball had affected, and how when she had seen him fall while playing polo, she didn't give it a single thought before rushing to his side.

And the burning she felt watching him during Piper's interview, hugging her and being his adorable self.

"Is this painful for you guys to watch too?" Joseph asked the others, getting some laughs in reply. "I don't remember the other princes being this bad. He's such a little asshole."

"Ethan was pretty shy on the Reports too," Lissa blurted out.

"Oh yeah, of course, Miss Former Selected herself will always stick up for any member of the royal family, but yet you're here with us," Joseph teased. Everyone else laughed and Lissa forced a smile.

"Wesley told me back then that Reports are really hard," she countered, sitting up so she wasn't sandwiched into Joseph anymore. "Imagine being on a live show like that with everyone watching your every move plus trying to find your wife and fix the country."

Joseph rolled his eyes at her. "I guess you are right babe, but what does that weird little asshole know anyway? He hasn't worked a day in his life, he has no idea how hard real life can be."

You would be surprised, Lissa thought. She sat silently through the rest of the interviews, trying to ignore the commentary from her co-workers that, frankly, was getting way too annoying. The moment it was over she stood up, eager to make her escape.

"Hey, where are you going?" Joseph looked up at her from the couch as some of the on-duty staff hurried back to their posts.

"I think I'm going to crash early tonight," Lissa said. Maybe it wouldn't be too late to hang out with Gracie for a few hours. "I'm really tired."

"Aw come on babe, let's go watch a movie or something. You can still go to bed early, it's not that late."

Lissa sighed. "I really don't want to."

Joseph frowned and looked down.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. It seemed like lately if she wasn't at work she was with him and she just needed some time to herself.

"It's cool, but you're still lame," he said, poking her in the stomach as he laughed.

Lissa forced a laugh. "Well, see ya tomorrow." She left quickly, but he called after her.

"Hey, wait!"

She turned. "What?"

He walked down the hallways a few steps before speaking. "You owe me a hug."

Another forced smile. "Oh."

He wrapped his arms around her and she did likewise. He did give really good hugs.

Once she was finally rid of him, Lissa made a hasty retreat to her room and flopped on her bed with a groan. She was about to text Gracie when someone knocked on her door. She cursed under her breath, preparing herself for another confrontation with Joseph.

She dragged herself to her feet and went to the door.

But it wasn't Joseph.

It was Wesley.

He was wearing remnants of his casual suit from the Report, sans jacket though, so just a dress pants and a white button down, the sleeves haphazardly rolled up. There was the smell of cigarette smoke coming off of him and his damp hair was an absolute mess, the brownish-blonde strands flopping over his eyes. He fixed his gray eyes straight on her, mouth slightly open. Then he smiled and took a deep breath.

"Hey," he said, in that way that is supposed to sound casual but most definitely does not.

Lissa ran her hands over her hips, slightly self-conscious of being dressed so casually. "Hi." Her voice came out the exact same way as his. "What's up?"

Wesley pressed his lips together, and his brow crinkled. "Why would anything be up?"

"Um…well why are you here?" She leaned against the doorframe, leaving her door ajar behind her.

He propped his hands on his hips, "I thought we agreed at the ball to be friends, didn't we?"  
"Yeah…? But why are you here?" Lissa had the sneaking suspicion that Wesley knew exactly what was going on but he was too shy to come right out with it.

"Oh, well I thought we could go do friend-stuff, you know? Like, hang out?"

"Right now?"

"Well if you're busy we don't have to…" Wesley backed up a step, and looked at her like a little lost puppy, his wet hair only adding to it. "But…I would really like to talk to you."

Lissa hesitated. She had meant to avoid him. She had made up her mind to stay here because the only reason she had to leave was because of him, and he had asked her not to sacrifice her career over their awkwardness. She was fine being polite, but that didn't mean she wanted to hang out alone with him and have a heart-to-heart conversation.

But none of those reasons convinced her to decline and go back to pouting in her room.

She shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Where are we going?"

He grinned, the smile breaking out all over his face. It was contagious.

"C'mon!" he exclaimed and turned and ran down the hall.

They ended up in the Observatory, a tiny room at the highest point of the caste. Halfway up the walls was dark wood paneling and the rest was glass panels that surrounded the whole room. There was only room for a small table and chairs. There was already a bottle of whiskey that had started to be emptied and a couple cans of Coke.

Wesley closed the door behind them and smiled awkwardly at her. Lissa smiled back and stood in front of the windows. It was raining out in the dark night and in the mostly glass room they could hear it faintly.

"Interesting place for a talk," Lissa mused.

"Yeah, well no one can usually find me up here," Wesley said, sitting down in one of the chairs and prying open one of the soda bottles. The loud pop echoed through the room, and the fizzing was obnoxiously loud as he poured it on top of a shot of whiskey.

"Your brother took me up here once," Lissa said, smiling fondly at the memory. "It was so…awkward."

Wesley laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "Everything with Ethan is usually awkward. You should have seen him the first time he held his kid."

Lissa smiled. "It wasn't just him. I didn't have any clue what to say to him! He was a prince and I was one of the lowest castes in the Selection."

Wesley took another drink. "I suppose…" he began, avoiding her eyes, "that even though I was a prince too, you had plenty to say to me."

Lissa turned back to the windows. "That was different."

She heard the clink of glass, and the low lights in the room provided enough light to create a reflection in the window and she could see him staring at her, empty glass in front of him.

"Everything's different, isn't it?"

Lissa didn't reply. She pressed her fingertips against the windows, not knowing quite what to say. He was still staring at her, she could see it through the reflection.

"Kinda feels like a dream half the time. Like it never really happened, like I was never here before," she admitted, saying what really was in her heart. All the other girls of Ethan's Selection looked back on it so fondly, but sometimes to Lissa it was just a dream. "Do you ever feel like that?"

She didn't know why she asked him, she just did, turning around to face him. Maybe it was a "friend-thing".

Wesley shook his head. "No. No, it doesn't. Honestly, this whole Selection feels more like a dream than anything."

Lissa let out a small laugh. "Yeah, that too. It's hard to believe I was one of them once."

He held her gaze. "You were never one of them. You were never one of mine. But you could have been, you know that, don't you? You—"

"Wes, please-" Lissa tried to cut him off.

"No, Lis, you were the only thing that kept me alive up there during the war," Wesley practically shouted, "and now that everything is so different it's like you're gone from completely and I have no more excuses to even _try_ to keep going anymore," he ended his rant abruptly, and lowered his head, slumping over the table. He spoke in a very small voice. "I'm not asking for you to come back to me… but I just wanted you to know."

"I—" Lissa began. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Wesley muttered into the table, his head draped over his glass of whiskey. "I just wanted to tell you. I'm sorry. It's just…it's gotten to the point where I don't know where I don't know who I am anymore, I feel like I'm going insane, I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, I can't even think straight. I can't keep myself from falling to pieces and that scares the hell out of me."

He looked up at her, his eyes so full of pain. They were a bit more crinkled a bit more around the edges than she remembered, and the Wesley she knew as a teenager would never have ever consented to let tears fill his eyes. He never would be single-handedly downing a bottle of whiskey or reeking of cigarette smoke.

He opened his mouth to speak, drawing in a ragged breath. "And then I see you…and it's like everything is okay again."

Lissa stared at him for second and then turned quickly back to the windows.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Wesley said miserably from behind her. "Shit, none of that came out right."

Lissa shook her head. "No, it's fine."

"I shouldn't have told you all that."

"Well you did," she said. It was time to end this. She watched the raindrops streak down the window. Maybe it wasn't the rain, maybe it was. But somehow it made everything feel safe like the world was a little smaller and darker and too focused on the water to hear her. Maybe that's why she could tell him what she did.

She sat down in the chair opposite him, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Sometimes, after I left this place, you were the only thing that kept me going too. I know I didn't go fight in the war like you did. I didn't even get close. I can't imagine what happened to you."

Wesley just kept his head down, pouring just whiskey this time and taking a shot. He offered her the bottle but Lissa shook her head.

"I wanted everything to be like a fairy tale. And it wasn't. But I remembered you, and I remembered us. You made me feel beautiful, you made me realize it didn't matter where I came from, you made me happy. And I will always hold onto that, I will never forget that."

She smiled, blinking back against the tears that unexpectedly formed in her eyes. "And I see it in your eyes, I see how you're scared of the way the girls make you feel because you don't want to feel anything at all. But Wesley…our little made-up world is gone. You're having a Selection, and I'm dating Joseph and whatever we had…we don't have anymore."

He didn't reply, leaving her words echoing throughout the room. Lissa continued.

"Do you think that maybe…the only time we work together is when we can't be together?"

"What?"

Lissa swallowed hard. "It was so exciting back then. Sneaking around, making promises, planning our future…"

"But everything's different now, isn't it?" He lowered his eyes to the table, repeating what he had said earlier.

He picked up the bottle again and poured another splash into his glass, and then stood up and poured some in hers too. He tipped the contents of his glass into his mouth.

Lissa picked up her glass and took a sip, for courage.

"Wes…" she used her nickname for him automatically. She blurted out the rest before she could lose her courage. "I want you to tell me what happened."

He looked up sharply at her, his eyebrows drawn together. She could plainly see that he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"What-what do you mean?" he said after a moment.

"No. About you. About the war. What happened to you, what made you like…this?"

Wesley frowned and set his glass on the table a little harder than necessary. "Is there something wrong with me? Are you trying to fix me too?" His voice was louder, angrier than she expected. Wesley Shreve was not really the sort of person to get mad.

"I'm not trying to 'fix' you," she retorted, raising her voice too. "I'm trying to help you! You won't talk to anyone, you just bottle it up inside you and I've seen how it's changed you!"

"Well maybe no one can ever help me, ever thought about that?" He was gripping his glass so hard now she thought he might break it, but he wasn't yelling anymore. "Maybe I'm just going to be like this forever."

"You might be if you don't let anyone help you!" Lissa leaned back in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

They sat in silence for a moment. Wesley poured another drink and Lissa finished hers, glaring at him over the rim.

He avoided her eyes as he spoke. "Look, you really don't need to know what happened up there. And I really don't want to tell you."

"I'm still asking. And if you don't want to tell me, will you talk to someone else about it?"

Wesley was already shaking his head before she finished. "No, no. No, I can't." He held his head in his hands. "I just can't."

"Why?" Lissa leaned over the table closer to him. "Give me one good reason why you can't."

He met her eyes and held them for a long moment. Then he looked down at the table again.

"It wasn't just one thing. I wish it was that simple, but it's not. And I don't want to give you the whole list, I don't want to sound like every other sob story out there. Lots of people had way worse than I did. I saw my dad executed in front of me. I almost died because I was stupid. And my friend, my best friend…he died because of me. He died so I could get away. It was my fault." Wesley just kept shaking his head, over and over again. "It doesn't sound that bad, I know it doesn't. But it still happened. And I don't think I can forgive myself. Maybe if…" he trailed off. "I don't know. I can't forget any of it."

He stood up now and walked restlessly behind his chair. "And this ridiculous Selection…it' s like everyone is trying to pretend like it didn't happen like everything is normal and okay. And it's not."

He took a deep shuddering breath. "I want to believe that I can be okay again, but I'm not so sure."

His words from earlier came back to her. _You were the only thing that kept me alive up there during the war…_

And now he was looking at her, asking her to save him.

Save him like he saved her.

Lissa stood up, and went to him, where he stood, holding onto the back of the chair like it was the only thing keeping him together.

"Hey," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You're going to be okay."

He met her eyes. The sound of the rain on the windows drowned out everything else, not there was much in that quiet room.

"Just tell me one thing,"

"Sure," Lissa whispered.

"Are you happy with him? Are you happy with Joseph? Does he treat you right?"

The air in the room seemed to have run out. And Lissa didn't know how to answer. To her, it seemed so random. But Wesley was asking it like his life depended on it.

Finally, she just nodded.

Wesley sort of pressed his lips together in a sort of grimace smile. "I guess I should really start focusing on the Selection then."

Lissa nodded again, but this time she couldn't look at him. "Yeah. You're going to marry one of those girls, after all."

Wesley straightened up and picked up the whiskey bottle. "Do you have any suggestions?"

"I haven't the slightest idea about any of them."

He smiled a little, which was a good sign. "Yeah me neither." With exaggerated care, he pushed in the chair he had been sitting in. "I guess…I guess I'll see you around."

With a final nod, he was leaving, heading towards the door.

And then he stopped.

"Lissa Dove," he said, loudly this time. He smiled one of his infectious grins at her and didn't wait for her to reply. "I'm never going to love anyone the way I loved you."

And then he was gone.


	20. This Is Not The End

**I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS CHAPTER IS IT'S A BAG OF SHIT OKAY**

 **For those of you who review I love you: Namelesss, Lizcran, Virtue01,Epiccupcake28, mnbvcxz-xx, RunawayGirl8125, delovlies AND WHOEVER REVEIWED AND SAID ITS ME I LOVE YOU EVEN THOUGH I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE.**

…

The cold and the light woke him up.

Even in the bunker part of the hanger, he could see his breath. And the single window predictably situated so it let in the sunshine right in his eyes. Finding himself alone, he reluctantly left the warmth of his blankets and jumped off his bunk. He shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed his coat and headed outside.

It was even brighter, with the snow and the sunshine and the cloudless sky. Just an endless expanse of blue and white blending together in the wind. He squinted against the light and heard someone laughing at him.

"Shut up, Drake," he mumbled, voice still fogged with sleep.

"You look cold," his copilot said, from where he leaned against the hanger wall.

"How long do we have?" he said, shoving his freezing hands in his pockets.

Drake fumbled in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a box of cigarettes. "A few more hours, I guess. We should probably get some rest."

"Couldn't sleep either?"

Drake put the box back into his pocket and stuck one in his mouth. "Nah. Just a little. I woke up right before you did." He said around it, shielding his lighter from the cold wind as he lit it.

"It's so damn cold."

"Maybe you should put on some pants, Angeles boy," Drake said.

He looked down at his clothes. The tee shirt and boxer shorts he had slept in were on with only his coat and shoes over top.

"Shit." He whispered.

"Go back in, dumbass, I'll be inside in a sec. Just gotta kill my lungs for a bit." Drake said, putting the smoldering stub of his cigarette to his lips.

"Nah, give me one of those," He said.

Drake rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're a prince and yet you always beg cigarettes off me." Still, he took the box out and tossed it to him, along with the lighter.

It took a couple tries to light it in the wind, but the smoke was a whole lot warmer than the icy air that stabbed his lungs. He inhaled deeply and then blew it out, like breath frosting in the air. Everything was so quiet, it was almost like they could pretend nothing was going on. Like they weren't waiting for orders to prepare for takeoff, to fly into Bankston which just happened to be occupied by rebels. Except for the sweep of snow across…well, more snow, it was like they were the only two people left alive in this world.

"Are you scared?" he said softly, barely above the wind.

Next, to him, Drake nodded…

"Sir?"

Wesley shook himself. He looked up to where Joseph was standing in the doorway to his office.

Enough of this. No more thinking about things that already happened, things he couldn't change. He took a deep breath, trying to relax. All he could think about was that day in Ottaro, him and Drake waiting endlessly for their order to come, to take off and fly a shipment of weapons to their forces in Bankston. The most agonizing hours of his life.

And the last ones of Drake's.

Joseph cleared his throat, reminding Wesley of his presence.

"Sorry, uh, what?"

Joseph barely concealed a roll of his eyes. "I asked if there was anything else you required, sir."

Wesley stood up and rummaged through the disaster of his desk until he found his wallet and opened it. He pulled out some money and handed it to his annoying valet. "Actually yeah. Two packs of cigarettes,"

"So, what kind?" Joseph asked.

"Whatever is the most expensive, I guess. And be discreet, please. And don't tell my mom about this. Don't tell anyone, okay? Or I will see you fired."

"Didn't you already try that?" Joseph sneered, taking the money.

Wesley ignored him. "Just make sure you're back within the hour. I've got some more stuff I'll need you to do for me."

Joseph left, and Wesley leaned back into his chair. He looked at the list before him.

Currently, there were eighteen girls still at the palace. But it was time to really get serious about this, and after the interviews, people were expecting another elimination, and the selection council had approved three of his choosing to be eliminated. Well, mostly his choosing. There were some girls he was absolutely not allowed to eliminate yet, like Fallon Berlin and Valette Mali.

He had already decided on Ladies Isabella and Gwendolyn of Labrador and Bonita but just needed to make one more cut. While having fifteen girls left would definitely make things easier and less crowded, it was more than a little scary. That was a lot closer to the Elite and a lot closer to the One and a lot closer to Wesley being very screwed.

He scanned the list again. He wished it could be Lady Darcy because he was 94% sure she was actually a demon and he was terrified of her. But according to the fashion and celebrity gossip magazines that were scattered about his desk in an alarming number loved that 5-foot blonde haired thing that looked like an absolute angel. Bet.

Perhaps Lady Callista, he knew she wasn't anywhere close to being fond of him and she was definitely on the growing list of girls he was scared of, up there with Lady Georgia and Lady Dresden…okay most of them. Lady Dresden wasn't an option either. Being from the war-torn province of Columbia, she had a lot of backing and quite frankly, he was too scared of her to even inform her she was being sent home. Lady Valette and him would never work, but tensions with her family were still too high to send home.

He was tempted to send Eleanor home, purely for selfish reasons. Her level of devotion was starting to scare him (put her on the list, he reminded himself), and he wasn't sure how he felt about her. She was a very sweet girl, but so much of her felt manufactured. But he still liked her, so for the moment, he decided to avoid her.

Wesley hovered his pen over Lady Reese's name. Bankston.

Bankstown had been the last province to secede, but it was sparsely populated, and as he understood it, it's secession could mostly be blamed on the misfortune of neighboring Yukon and St. George. He liked Reese well enough, and he didn't really want to eliminate her. She was sweet and energetic and very pretty, but she didn't have a lot of popular support. And he _had_ to start taking this seriously.

Drake and he had never made it to Bankston like they were supposed to. They had crashed in Ottaro.

He crossed out Reese's name.

…

He could have had someone else deliver the news, but he decided to do it himself. Isabella and Gwendolyn had both screamed and cried and threw temper tantrums. He knew that when Rebecca Jackson interviewed them before they left, things would probably be ugly. Reese had only nodded and thanked him, and he had given her a hug. She had told him that she was excited to go home, which had softened the blow a bit.

No matter who he sent home or how he did it, he knew every tabloid in the country would have something nasty to say about it. The thought had him blowing through two cigarettes on his balcony afterward and scrambling to think of things that the press would actually like. He made a mental note to ask Ethan and Andrew about things to do after the Council meeting.

Which, apparently, he was a stranger to these days.

As he walked into the meeting room of the Council, everyone looked at him like he had just walked into the Woman's Room in a speedo or something.

"Hey, sorry I'm late…" the words died on his lips as he took in the shocked stares. "Uh…what's going on?" He quickly checked to make sure he had remembered to put on pants this morning. Yep.

"Uh, you're here," Ethan said. "You're never here."

The Council, including his brothers, was considerably larger than it used to be. Of course, Colin was here, being Prime Minister and Ben, the Secretary of Homeland. There was also General Connelly, the Secretary of Defense, and Elvira, the Secretary of the Military.

"Aw, come on guys, you know I never miss a meeting!" Wesley put some of his stuff down in his usual spot and headed towards the back of the room to where there was a coffee machine. "Best coffee in the palace. Tastes like stress and really important things." He poured himself a cup and added several packets of sugar. "Come to think of it, we haven't had one of these in ages."

Elvira spun around in her rolling chair and crossed her legs. "That's because your mom told us we had to stop telling you when the meetings were, so you could focus on the Selection. How did you even find out about this one?"

Wesley's mouth dropped open, which may have caused him to spray coffee everywhere. "Are you serious?" he sputtered.

Ethan, Ben, and Colin started laughing like hyenas while General Connelly excused himself with a smirk to make a call. Elvira just shook her head at him.

"Look at your face!" Colin exclaimed, around very un-Prime-Minister-like guffaws.

"You're dead serious?" Wesley demanded of Andrew. "That's why there haven't been any meetings? I thought it because everyone was going on business trips and stuff! Why didn't you tell me!"

"Because Mom told us not to!" Andrew was starting to laugh at him too.

"And you couldn't order her otherwise? You're the king!"  
"She is right, you know," Elvira began. "You do need to concentrate on your Selection."

"And besides, have you met our mother?" Ethan added. "I'm pretty sure that if one of us did tell you, she could have gotten us out of the line of succession."

Wesley scoffed and then sat down at his spot. He sorted through his notebook and papers, trying to find his phone, but as usual, to no luck. "Well, the important this is I'm here now. Somehow, I got the email from your web of lies and knew about this one."

"And you're only slightly late," Andrew pointed out, leaning back in his chair, and propping his hands behind his head.

"Sorry about that, it's probably because I was _focusing on my Selection_ ," he rolled his eyes and took a drink of coffee. "I can't believe this. It's like you've forgotten about me. Just because I'm having a Selection doesn't mean I'm not a valid Council member. I'm like the glue of this entire sinking ship."

"Just be thankful you don't have to sit through these boring meetings," Ben teased him, "I'm sure the Selection was a lot more fun."  
"Would you shut up, mate?" Wesley snapped. He finally realized his phone was in his back pocket, but as fate would have it, it was dead. "You're all dead to me."

The others laughed at him and decided it wasn't very fun being the only person who was angry.

General Connelly soon reappeared which finally put an end to the jokes at his expense and everyone became professional in the presence of an actual adult and they set to business. Wesley listened eagerly, glad to have something else to focus on besides the Selection and him and his crazy self. There were some light foreign affairs and trade deals to discuss, but unfortunately, things quickly came full circle.

Atlin was an absolute mess, with the Berlin family still in power. Yukon and Atlin had been the two hotbeds of the rebel activity, where most of the orchestrating and leadership went. The provisional government of the seceded provinces had been located in Yukon, away from the majority of the fighting like in St. George and Ottaro. But Atlin had been another rebel stronghold, financed and backed by the extremely powerful Berlin family, which of course, had found its way into the palace in the form of Lady Fallon Berlin. When the government in Yukon had been toppled, Atlin had surrendered to the monarchy. But now they were refusing to elect a legitimate representative, instead nominating Fallon's uncle to join the legislative branch without any sort of official election.

"Atlin has been run by the Berlin family for the last seven years, and they've always been influential," Andrew was saying. "And just because the north surrendered it doesn't mean that they're just going to give up their power without a fight. They don't need us. But as it just so happens, we have something very important."

"Why do I know where this is going," Wesley muttered, before slumping headfirst onto his notebook full of meeting notes. "Shit, dude."

Andrew cleared his throat, and Wesley sat up reluctantly. "You all know that Lady Fallon wasn't picked randomly and that we accepted her father's bribe to put her in the Selection. The entire province adores her. Many people in the north adore her." Andrew gave Wesley an accusatory glance. "And yet-"

"And yet, they have never seen us go on a date or even interact." Wesley finished for him. "I know, I know. You don't have to go all Mom and Nicole on me, everyone keeps telling me the same thing. I'm working on it."

"What could be so hard about asking her on a date?" Ethan asked.

"Okay well first of all Mr. The- First- Girl-I Proposed-To-Turned-Me-Down, that's not the hard part. I have asked her. Multiple times! She refuses."

"It's because you have zero charm," Colin commented.

"Thank you for your input, even though I think insulting me isn't part of your job description," Wesley said to him. "But I have plenty of charm thank you very much."

Ben snorted, and now Wesley had to glare at him too.

"Why does she refuse, exactly?" Elvira asked.

"Um...well…she keeps saying that…myfashionsenseistooterribleforhertogooutwithme." He said the last part all in a blur, but it didn't matter because once again he was the object of humiliation.

When everyone had finally recovered from laughing at him, those jerks, Andrew spoke up.

"Right, Wes, we'll leave the gritty details to you, but it would be extremely helpful to restoring our nation if you could get your shit together and become fashionable enough for Lady Fallon."

"Did you just pick my wife for me?" Wesley accused. "Because that's not how this works. _I_ get to pick my wife. That's how the Selection works, remember?"

"Unless you're Ethan," Ben commented. "Then you just get stuck with whoever's left."

Wesley laughed as loud, finally at someone else's expense.

"I'll tell Nicole you said that," Ethan joked.

"Well I sure have missed these riveting meetings," Wesley said. "Where all we do is roast each other. But the email said this would be over at two and I need to go scream into the void for a while and then I have a date...hopefully."

Everyone started to gather up their papers and say their goodbyes, and Wesley decided to ask his brothers another time for Selection advice. A plan had been forming in his mind for like five minutes now and it was time to put it into action. He made a hasty exit from the Council room and dashed up to his room. He quickly threw aside his Council stuff and plugged in his phone. He checked his email to find the schedule of the Selected that Nicole had emailed him and made a few calls to get things set up.

He stood for an agonizingly long time in his closet, trying to find something that would work for the girl who seemed to hate everything that he ever wore which was apparently enough to make her hate him altogether. He went super causal—surely Fallon wouldn't be able to find anything bad to say about a white tee shirt and gray jeans?

No doubt she would.

By the time everything was ready, Wesley was a ball of nerves. He cracked his knuckles over and over again as the camera crew ran some tests to make sure everything was working properly. The last several years away from all the cameras and spotlights had certainly been nice, but then again there were a lot of other trade-offs. One of the guards had confirmed that Fallon was in her usual spot, the library, even though the ladies—now down to fifteen, were currently supposed to be in their princess lessons with Christine and Nicole. One of the film crew signaled to him that they were recording, and Wesley flashed a cheesy thumbs up and a grin to the camera before they followed him down the staircase and down the Main Hall.

There was a second between when he opened the door and when Fallon looked up that he wished he had dispensed with all the cameras and filming. She sat in the corner of the large library, perched in a large velvet armchair that seemed to swallow her up. A shaft of sunlight lit her up, though her stilettos, skinny jeans, and slightly cropped black top made her look more like she was attending a fashion show that curled up in an empty library. Every other time he had seen Fallon, she looked unnatural and unsettled as if she knew everyone was looking at her. For that brief second, she seemed normal, twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger.

And then in the next moment, as she looked up and saw Wesley and the cameras, her face settled into a mask of stone, her blue eyes wide and unblinking as she watched them approach.

"Hi Fallon," Wesley greeted her.

Fallon pressed her lips together but didn't respond. She ignored the cameras like it was second nature, but since she was a model it probably was, Wesley realized. He, however, was acutely aware of them behind him, recording his every move and every mess up but hopefully not another rejection. Feeling like a high schooler about to ask a girl to the prom, Wesley cleared his throat.

"I was wondering if you would maybe want to go to dinner with me?"

Fallon's eyes flashed to the cameras and then back to his. He remembered her coming to his rescue after Eleanor left him on the dance floor during the ball and hoped she did too.

"Can we talk in private, Prince Wesley?" she asked him, holding her book to her chest.

Heart sinking, Wesley nodded and signaled the crew to stop filming. His hope was that the cameras would influence her to say yes but it was thrusting her into the spotlight without any warning.

"Make sure that doesn't go on the Report," he told the crew.

Fallon followed him meekly into the hallway, her heels clicking behind him. There was no one around, luckily. This time he waited for her to make the first move to speak. She crossed her arms over the book, pressing both tight against her. She was wearing dark eyeshadow that made her eyes stand out, even though she kept her gaze on the floor.

"I thought…" she began, her voice quiet. She was holding the book so tightly to her now that the cords of her neck stood out. She pressed her lips together again and spoke louder. "I thought I told you I wasn't going on date with you until you showed me some better clothes."

"Oh, come on, what's wrong with this?" he held out his arms. "Please, Fallon, I'm genuinely interested."

She winced and then did that thing again where she made eye contact for half a second.

"Honestly…I don't even know where to begin. It's—" she gestured vaguely. "You look like some kind of…frat boy gone wrong…I'm really sorry." She turned to go, but Wesley reached out and snatched her arm. She flinched and then jerked away sharply.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, her voice hardening to a pitch he had never heard from her before. She looked right at him, and this time she didn't look away. There was no moment where she remembered he was a prince and apologized. In fact, it seemed like she was waiting for one.

Well, she wasn't going to get any apology out of him.

"Dammit, Fallon!" Wesley exclaimed. "Is this whole thing an act or are you honestly so shallow that _my clothes_ keep you from going out with me. Because everyone keeps telling me I need to pay you attention or your family is going to start another war and every time I try you give me some bullshit about how I have no fashion taste and if I wasn't under strict orders not to eliminate you, I would have sent you home this afternoon."

"Please don't," she whispered, the old Fallon back.

"I just don't get you! Are you that self-absorbed? I know you're not because you saved my ass during the Victory Ball and you hate my valet, so you've got to have some points there."

She didn't say anything, just looked at him with her wide eyes.

"You know what? I have an idea. I'm not going to grab you again, but I am a prince of Illea and I order you to come with me."

"You can stop yelling now," she frowned at him.

Exasperated, Wesley threw up his hands and headed for the stairs. The heel clicks followed him.

"And for the record, I am _not_ self-absorbed," She muttered.

Neither of them said anything else as Wesley led her up the stairs to the third floor. He stopped outside his rooms. "Fallon Berlin, will you _please_ go on a date with me tonight? Just dinner, nothing crazy. There will be cameras, but I promise they will film from a distance. You can hate me all you want, we don't even have to talk. And-" he opened the door and led her inside straight to his closet. "you get to pick out what I wear."

He gestured to the closet doors with dramatic flair and waited for her to say something. Fallon looked at him, then back to the closet.

"Honestly, when I said I wouldn't go on a date with you until you showed me better clothes, I didn't really mean that we should go to your closet for said event."

"Does that mean you agree?"

"Do I have a choice, Your Esteemed Royal Highness?"

Wesley threw open the doors, finding it obnoxiously neat. "If anything, think of this as a way to irritate my valet."

Slowly, Fallon lowered the book she had been holding onto this whole time. "That is a good way to think of it. And your jeans do have holes in both knees and I absolutely cannot eat dinner with someone wearing that."

"I thought it made me look edgy."

Fallon looked at him with a grimace on her face and shook her head. Hesitantly, she stepped inside and ran her fingers down the sleeve of one of his suit jackets. "Is taking a girl into the closet with you a way of countering all the rumors that you might be gay? Because, while I applaud your ingenuity, I think your premise is slightly flawed."

In spite of himself, Wesley laughed. "Those magazines will say anything, won't they?"

"If someone caught us in here, they would probably accuse us of hooking up," Fallon said, no emotion in her voice as she scrutinized his tie selection. She turned around to face him and her face held a tiny smirk. "Strip for me, bitch."

She said it so blandly that he had no idea if she was joking or serious. He would have to test the waters.

"Uh…" He picked up the hem of his shirt. "Are the jeans that bad?"

He started to pull his shirt over his head, but Fallon shrieked and covered her eyes. "NO! OH, DEAR GOD, DO NOT DO THIS. I was joking, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" She kept apologizing over and over again, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry!" she gasped, now practically hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey," Wesley put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, Fallon, it's okay!"

She was crying now, sobbing in between strangled breaths. "I'm sorry," she kept saying. She was holding her arms so tightly her nails left red marks.

Wesley took hold of her wrists, the bones of her arms tiny and fragile in his hands. She didn't even appear to notice him. "Fal, it's okay. I was just playing along. It's okay!"

It didn't work. She was crying too hard now to apologize, a horrible gasping cry. She pulled her arms away from his grasp with surprising strength. "No!" she squeaked out.

Wesley was so confused, and he felt terrible. He had no idea she would react like that, and he wanted to cry to. The only thing he could think to do was reach out for her and wrap his arms around her. She felt like a little bird in his arms as he pulled her roughly to his chest, her arms creating a barrier between them. She pushed him away again, and the hug seemed to only make things worse.

"Let go of me!" she cried.

Fallon backed herself into a corner of the closet, leaving Wesley standing with his hands up in the entry. Another sob racked her body as she took several deep breaths, seemingly trying to get her breathing under control. Her arms stayed wrapped around her. Several agonizing moments passed as she quieted down.

"Are you okay?" he asked when the closet was quiet.

Fallon nodded vigorously but didn't speak.

"I thought you were serious, I was…I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

She was still quiet, wiping the smudged mascara and eyeshadow out from under her lashes.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Still no answer. Wesley sighed. "This date isn't going very well."

Fallon shook her head and took a deep breath. She wiped some makeup off the corner of her eye. "Don't call me Fal."

"Um, what?"

"You called me Fal. I don't like nicknames."

"Oh…sorry? I use them a lot… I didn't realize."

She pulled herself to her feet and began sorting through his clothes on their hangers with abandon like nothing had even happened. "God, don't you have anything decent to wear in here?" she mumbled. "I bet it's your valet. It is, isn't it?"

"Uh…yeah, it is. He's a dick, remember?"

Fallon rolled her eyes as she let a suit jacket slip off the hanger onto the ground. She examined another one. "This will do," she tossed it to him. It took a very long time for her to find something she liked and forced Wesley to change many times (away from her of course) before she was finally happy. The closet was a mess but Fallon almost smiled as she turned the light off behind her.

"Do you think it's messy enough?" she asked.

"Any messier and he might think we really did hook up in there," Wesley teased. He knew he would feel ridiculous in the black suit she had picked out for him. Fallon blushed, and Wesley decided it was better not to mention anything that had happened earlier. There would be time for that later. For now, he was just happy that she had agreed to go on a publicized date with him, and that he had found out she was human after all.

"Do I really have to wear that? You better dress up really nice too if I do."

"Wasn't that the trade-off?" Fallon asked him. "You should thank me. You finally don't look like some wanna be boy band member anymore."

"Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"Why would it be a compliment?"

Wesley shrugged. "I thought maybe I was growing on you."

Fallon pressed her lips together. "Maybe…but tomorrow you're going to walk into the dining room in something awful and we're going to have to get a divorce."

"Well, you still have to eat dinner with me tonight."

Fallon sighed and almost smiled. "I don't remember agreeing to that, but you did order me to."

Wesley shot her some finger guns. "I'll pick you up at seven."

…


	21. Only Getting Older

**It's only been like a month since I updated but this chapter is basically the length of two, so get some snacks, we're gonna be here awhile! Despite how much I struggled with parts of it, this is one of my favorite ones so far. Review shout outs to** Virtue01, Epiccupcake28, mnbvcxz-xx, Guest, delovlies, **and** Doctor Kay Sorceress Supreme **(X2!).**

 **Out of curiosity, let me know who your favorite Selected are and who you want to see more of. I'm planning something a few chapters from now, so I would be interested to know! Also, which part of this chapter was your favorite, I'm excited to see! And I totally missed Christmas and the holidays and the New Year, so happy everything and all that good stuff.**

 **-shades**

…

"Wow, this is great," Wesley scrolled through the article on Christine's phone with a growing sense of dread. "I'm literally going to move into the hills and live in a cave the rest of my life."

He handed Christine her phone back and surveyed the faces of some of his quickly assembled Selection coordinators in the sitting room they had taken over. Of course, aside from Christine, Nicole was there, along with Nat and Gracie, all on their phones searching for news. Elvira and Adele were both absent, but they usually took a backseat to the planning. Thankfully, his mother wasn't here yet either. He didn't exactly want to face her in the wake of this latest news outbreak.

"I was nothing but nice to her!" Wesley said, flopping down on the couch. "If I wasn't a prince, I would call her a bitch."

Nat flopped down next to him. "I'll do it for you. She's a bitch."

It had only been a few hours since he had eliminated the three girls, cutting the Selection down to fifteen, which he had spent most of organizing his date proposal to Fallon, her picking his outfit, and then planning the actual date. He needed to go get ready for said date, but all this had blown up.

"It gets worse," Christine chimed in, handing him her phone again. "She's already gone to the press."  
"Oh, great," Wesley muttered.

Once the remaining Selected had been informed of the three girl's departure, Lady Callista had gone to Christine asking to be eliminated as well. She had somehow left the palace before Wesley could even be informed of her question, and the event was making headlines across Illea.

"What's she saying?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"Several outlets are quoting her as saying you are a 'spoiled brat' who pays no attention to his duties and is more concerned with partying with girls who aren't part of the Selection. Also, that the rest of us don't even see our children and are horrible parents?" Nicole read, looking at the others with a confused expression. "What?"

"Oh shit she's also saying that you're probably gay," Gracie read from her phone. "And that you personally told her that."

"I didn't! I'm not!"

"And that you are rarely even in the palace." Nat chimed in. "And you never talked to her. Plus, all that usual stuff about how you're an alcoholic and don't care about your servants and that you shouldn't even be having a Selection if you aren't interested in getting married. But everyone's been saying that for a while now."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Guys…how are you guys not freaking out right now? I'm freaking out, guys."

"I think we've established that we're guys," Nat told him. "And yes, this sucks. But its temporary."

"At least you didn't end up marrying her," Gracie offered with a shrug of her shoulders.

"So, what's the plan then?" Wesley looked around the girls. "Because I have a date to get to."

"I think the only thing to do is to get the press to focus on something else," Christine said.

"So, speaking of dates…?" Nicole hinted. "Who's it with?"

"I finally got Fallon to agree to go on a date with me for dinner, with cameras and stuff. But do you think that will be enough?"

"Schedule several dates each for the next two days, with all the coverage you can get," Nicole said.

"Good Press Vibes. Trademark that," Wesley said, nodding.

"Whoever you want to pick. We can help you pick out the activities. Start with dinner with Fallon tonight."

"She's going to hate me, but what if I take her downtown to a restaurant? I mean last time I was there with Iris a month ago I got plenty of free media and this time I won't make a total ass of myself because I'm an adult."

"Were you not an adult last month?" Gracie asked seriously.

"That is a good idea, everyone loves Fallon," Nat told him.

"She's my Atlin babe," Gracie said.

Wesley nodded and pushed away the reminder that Fallon would probably hate being out in public with all those people. Oh well.

"You will have to release a statement about Callista leaving, but we can take care of that," Christine said. "You have a date."

Fallon didn't look overly happy as he greeted her in the Main Hall by the front doors, flanked by the camera crew, but she did look beautiful in a delicate blue-gray gown with long sheer sleeves and neckline. Her blonde-streaked dark hair fell in loose curls around her face, parted in the middle.

He took her hand and kissed it lightly to the snapping of photos from the cameramen. "You look stunning," he said, knowing the mic pack he wore would pick it up.

"I thought we were staying here," Fallon pursed her lips.

"Change of plans," Wesley said, opening the doors and leading her outside and into the waiting limo. "I'm taking you downtown to this great restaurant. If you thought the food here was good wait until you try theirs."

"I didn't think the food here was good," Fallon said decidedly. They spent the rest of the ride in silence, despite his attempts to get her to talk. It didn't really matter because there were no cameras in the limo with them except his phone. But she also refused to take selfies with him.

Due to the heavy security presence and the elaborate camera crew already in place when they pulled up, not to mention their limo and red-carpet worthy outfits, all eyes were on them as Wesley helped Fallon out. She wore a practiced smile as she waved to the photographers and filmers, not to mention the crowd recording on their phones. The restaurant was on the rooftop of a building, and the night was warm, and the skyline was glowing with millions of lights from cars and the surrounding buildings. Fallon still didn't look happy, even after they were seated and the camera crew retreated to a safe distance and Wesley took his mic off. She browsed the menu with a frown.

"Hey, at least I wore what you picked out for me," he tried.

Fallon made a little hum in response and did not look up. Wesley ordered them wine, but Fallon didn't touch hers as Wesley took a gulp of his.

"I really don't like wine," he said.

"Then why did you order it?"

"Ah, she speaks!" he joked. Fallon blinked at him. "It looks good. I can pretend I'm classy."

Fallon picked up her napkin and folded it delicate on her lap. "Because thanks to Callista, everyone thinks you're not, so now you have to look fantastic for the cameras," She said under her breath, but giving him a pointed look. "Right?"

"…Right," Wesley admitted.

"Well, here," Fallon signaled to the cameras in some secret model language Wesley was beyond comprehending, and then held up her wine glass for a toast. They toasted, and the cameras snapped. Her lips formed a warm smile, but her eyes remained hard. The waiter brought them their food, and they began to eat without any conversation.

"Hey, I really appreciate you helping me out," Wesley said quietly when he could bear the silence no longer. "It means a lot to me."

Fallon glanced at him for a moment before looking down again. "I really don't care about your problems."

Wesley tried not to roll his eyes at her. "Oh, well, still. Thanks."

"Whatever," Fallon said, staring out at the city skyline. "I get it. It's all a show."

"A show?" Wesley bristled. "This is my life we're talking about."

She pressed her lips together, not making eye contact. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a really short temper?"

"What?"

"And in case you haven't realized," Fallon continued, leaning back in her chair, "yours is not the only life that matters here."

Wesley glanced over at the cameras, still trained on them.

"You're right. Sorry," He offered a smile.

Fallon shrugged and went back to eating. He ended up drinking both wines. But at least it looked good on camera.

…

Date #2 was a go ahead.

While he had been at dinner with Fallon, his coordinators had planned a whole date, apparently. The whole camera crew was already set up, along with the implements of the date. And the date.

Nicole had only told him to go to one of the drawing rooms on the first floor, so he was a little shocked to find a nice roaring fire in the fireplace, a table full of drinks and snacks, a game of Monopoly set up, and Piper.

She looked up quickly as he entered the room and stopped short to find it all ready.

"Just ignore us," one of the camera dudes said.

"Um, okay. Hi, Piper," Wesley said.

She smiled shyly, and looked down at her lap, hiding her face behind a curtain of long blonde hair. "Hi."

"Oh, hi guys!" Wesley exclaimed as two more guests got up from the floor to see him. Finn and Jack, the palace dogs that were technically Andrew's had also been added to the date scene to make things more…domestic? He petted them and got dog hair all over his suit and few licks to the face before he stood up. He tried to act casual and slipped out of his suit jacket. He felt startlingly overdressed in his suit with Piper only dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink sweater. Piper was sitting on the sofa, her legs curled up close to her. He draped his coat over the back of the chair next to the sofa and sat down.

"How's it going?" he asked. He knew from experience that Piper was a girl of very few words.

"It's good. They told me to meet you here. I just got here myself," she said, touching her hair nervously.

"Man, I told you on our first date I was going to take you horseback riding next so you could watch me fall off."

Piper laughed slightly. "It's okay."

Wesley surveyed some of the snacks left out on the side table and grabbed a handful of Skittles. He was slightly buzzed from dinner, but there were only a few cans of soda to drink. He popped open a root beer. "Want anything?"

Piper shook her head.

"Aw, come on, you have to want something. Cookies? Chips?" he picked up one plate of Oreos and bowl of potato chips in each hand and held them out to her. She smiled a little and took some of each, and one of the sodas. They munched for a few minutes in quiet sitting in front of the fire. Wesley told her some trivial story about how Finn and Jack had been when they first came to the palace to keep it from being silent. Piper giggled a little but didn't say anything. She kept glancing at the camera crew, so against his better judgment, Wesley sent them away. At least they had got a little bit of footage that wasn't too bad.

"Wanna play?" he gestured to the game of Monopoly. Maybe it would get her to talk a little more.

"Sure," she said, her voice soft. They both sat on the floor on a side of the coffee table in front of the fire and began. Piper was quiet at first, laughing at his enthusiasm and jokes that were pretty over the top. He got her to talk a little about her life in Clermont as they played, which was cool. Aside from her job as an exercise rider, she enjoyed photography and gymnastics in her free time.

"What about your family? You've met most of mine and lived to tell about it," he said as she rolled the dice.

She waited to move her piece before replying, something he was starting to realize she did a lot, thinking about her answer carefully before she said it.

"I'm adopted," she said, barely audible.

"Oh," Wesley said. She nudged the dice over his way, and he picked them up. "I've never met anyone who's adopted," he offered and winced at his own answer.

Piper shrugged and didn't talk hardly at all after that. Wesley intentionally found himself making bad business deals until she bankrupted him. He was getting really jittery with Piper's lack of talking. She was really sweet, that was for sure, but he kept trying to overcompensate for her silence. He just wished the sodas had been a lot stronger.

Unfortunately, the camera crew was waiting outside the drawing room for them as they left. The first thing that his lizard brain told him to do was to hug her, which was actually a terrible idea. She barely reciprocated, only putting her hands on his back limply. He let go quickly, and she was bright red from embarrassment.

"Sorry," he murmured. She just shook her head and gave him an embarrassed smile. She practically ran away from him.

"Make sure you cut that last part out," Wesley snapped to the camera crew.

Good Press Vibes ™ was not going well.

…

Day Two of Good Press Vibes ™ and Wesley was about to embark on Date #3. He had decided to continue on the task of going on dates with some of the more challenging personalities of his Selected, who also happened to have good political influence, so for his first date today he had asked Georgia.

It was ten in the morning, and the day had promised to be cooler now that summer was fully behind them. But the sun was out and shining gloriously. Wesley stood in front of the palace on the main drive, leaning up against the white convertible that looked really cool but unfortunately his car-ignorant ass didn't know anything about. The ever-present camera crew was taking some shots of him as he waited for Georgia to make her appearance. His Selection coordinators had decided that this date should be more formal, to contrast with the other ones that were planned for today, so he was stuck in a white dress shirt and a tan blazer, but they had consented on jeans.

He heard murmurings from the photographers and looked up to see Georgia exiting the palace with one of the guards. She was wearing a strapless yellow lace dress and luckily her heels weren't the monstrosities she usually wore to make herself taller than him. With a look over at the camera crew, she gave one of her not-quite smiles that reflected the rebellion posters she had been all over. Georgia was unpredictable to him, so he had decided on no mic for this date. Everyone would just have to speculate on what they were saying.

"Hi," he greeted her. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Georgia replied, tossing back her blonde curls. Wesley winced. The convertible would do a number on those. He offered his hand as he opened the passenger door for her and she gave him a slight eye roll as he helped her in before jogging around to the other side and jumping in the driver's seat.

He started up the car, hoping he would screw this up somehow. It had been a while since he had driven a manual car.

"Don't you want to put on your seatbelt?" Georgia reminded him as she checked her lipstick in the side mirror.

Wesley laughed. "Aw, don't you trust me?" he joked. She looked pointedly at him and waited for him to stop laughing at his own joke.

Wesley cleared his throat. "Sorry."

He put on his seatbelt and waited to make sure the camera crew was ready in their car to get all the Report worthy shots of this date. He pulled out of the driveway after them, driving slowly out of the palace complex.

"So, I'm assuming all of this is for the drama that Lady Callista caused by her…exit?" Georgia said, watching the palace grounds go by, her arm on the top of the door. They were still going very slow, so it was easy to hear her.

"Was it obvious?" Wesley asked.

Georgia shrugged her shoulders just slightly. "You never used to do all the camera stuff before."

Wesley checked his mirrors as they pulled out of the palace drive and onto the main road. He smiled. "You been keeping an eye on all my dates? Are you following me?"

"Can we stop with the jokes already? And no."

"Baby, I am jokes. We've been over this, remember?" Wesley snickered. Georgia visibly cringed and then gave him one of her Looks.

"Sorry," Wesley coughed. "I'll never call you baby again."

"Please do not."

The drive was silent as they drove into town, and luckily Wesley managed not to kill anyone. Traffic was fairly heavy, which was great because along with their added security presence, everyone was trying to see who was being filmed, which led to even more filming on cell phones!

"You ever been here before?" Wesley tested the waters.

Georgia didn't take her eyes off the road and shook her head. "Nope."

Two ice queens in less than twenty-four hours might just do him in.

"Well, I'm taking you to Griffith Park Observatory. It's super cool. I haven't been there since I was a kid."

"Sounds nice," Georgia commented.

Admittedly, it was nice. The weather was perfect as they strolled along the grounds, flanked of course by security personnel and the crew, with everyone already there taking pictures of them, and even more people arriving, hoping to get a glimpse of a prince and the Selection in action. They went on a private tour of the actual observatory, and even though it was daytime, the white marble building was still impressive. They were walking around the grounds for some Report shots afterward and from up here, they could see the city spread out before them.

"It's so…big," Wesley said. Georgia nodded.

"I'm glad it's all back in one piece. One country," she said, continuing to walk.

He reached for her hand to hold but gave up when she did her I'm-Going-To-Murder-You-With-My-Eyebrows Look.

"Sorry," he said. Again.

"It's cool. You're just trying too hard."

"Oh."

They walked several more paces in relative quiet. Wesley's guard reminded him that they should be getting back so they started heading back to the car. He mulled her words around in his head and before he lost his courage, he decided to ask her what she meant by that.

"Wait, what do you mean by trying too hard?"

Georgia gestured to the camera crew trailing them. "All this? It's…tacky and insincere and fake."

"Ouch. Okay, point taken."

Georgia continued on her rampage. "I'm going to be honest because I think you need to hear it. I actually thought you were pretty cool for a while before all this. You seemed real, you had issues. You were terrible at trying to hide it, but you accepted that they were apart of you. On that group date where we played sardines and at the Victory Ball and the other night after the Report, you seemed like a real person."

"But…this isn't me being a real person?"

Cue the Eyebrow Thing again. "Seriously?" Georgia said, "Of course not. All this makes you _look_ perfect and everyone eats it up, but that's not going to make it perfect in reality."

Wesley had no actual idea what that meant. "Um, well what can I do to fix it?"

Georgia sighed. "I can't tell you how to fix it. That's something you have to figure out for yourself."

Great.

…

With only enough time to change, it was time for Date #4. The break hadn't given him any fantastic inclinations about what Georgia meant, so Wesley had decided to stick to the original plan. Nat had given him the idea to attend a carnival that was visiting a town about a half hour away, and Wesley had decided to invite Lady Alyex for an afternoon of fun. Due to security reasons unbeknownst to him, he had to travel separately and arrived much earlier than his date, which gave him some time to scope the place out. It was cool, if a little corny, but he had the feeling Alyex would love it. The only thing he had changed after his talk with Georgia is to make it less of a show. The guards were dressed down and had orders to be discreet. The camera crew was also supposed to blend into the crowd, filming with hidden cameras and their phones instead of all the fancy equipment they usually did. The goal was to stay hidden from the people at the carnival.

And to be real.

"Hi!" she grinned widely at him when they met up, of course, with guards and the camera crew third-wheeling, but at least they weren't quite so obvious to the public. "This is so cool!"

Wesley laughed. "I had a feeling you would say that," he said, stepping forward with arms outstretched to hug her hello.

"Oh!" she exclaimed softly as she realized his intention. They hugged, and she pulled away blushing bright red. She was pretty tall for a girl and he only had an inch or two on her, so Wesley was glad she was wearing sneakers, along with black jeans and a white lace top.

"Cute hat," he said motioning to the black bowler hat that she wore.

Alyex grinned again. "Thank you! I like yours too!"

Wesley laughed. "It's my disguise hat. You'd be surprised how effective sunglasses and baseball cap can be."

"Oooh, so we're incognito for today?"  
"We're gonna try," Wesley said. He had also worn gray jeans and a black t-shirt to blend in more effectively. First things first, he was going to try really hard not to try too hard. Or whatever.

"So what do you want to do?" Alyex asked.

Wesley looked around. "Get food?"

"Let's go!"

They explored every food stall and ended up eating way too much junk food. The nachos, in Wesley's opinion, were truly the stuff of legend and he was convinced he would never find their equal anywhere else on this earth. The funnel cakes were also heavenly, and they ate three between them. They bought kettle corn and cotton candy, but after the caramel apples and ice cream, they decided just to save those for later. Alyex was uncomplicated and Wesley quickly found that he didn't have to try too hard with her, and before he knew it he had forgotten about Georgia's advice.

"I'm surprised the disguise cap is working," Alyex said quietly as they waited in line to ride the ferris wheel. "Your dates with Georgia and Fallon are all over social media."

"Yeah, well I thought I would try something different here. A carnival wouldn't work very well with everyone staring at us."

Alyex laughed. "I wouldn't know. This is the first one I've ever been to."

"Me too, girl. And I feel like I've missed out on years and years of amazing nachos and funnel cakes."

"Well, I'm glad we both got to go together to one. I was actually terrified about all the people who would be taking pictures and everything."

"Yeah, well that's why we have guards to yell at them," Wesley joked.

They finally got to the front of the line and sat down in one of the chairs, with film people and guards in front and behind them of course.

"It's only slightly awkward to have like five people third-wheeling," Wesley commented as they pulled the restraining bar down. "So how are you with heights?" he asked as the ride started to move up.

Alyex yelped and grabbed his arm. She quickly let go, her face red again. "Sorry!" she cried. "It just surprised me."

"You didn't answer me," Wesley teased.

Alyex playfully rolled her eyes. "I was a little distracted. But to be honest, heights are pretty up there on my list of fears."

Wesley draped his arm around her and Alyex giggled and blushed some more. "Well you have me to hang onto," he said. "What else is on that list?"

"Probably…going on dates!" she admitted, wrinkling up her nose. "And to be more honest, aside from the group date, this is my first actual date."

"Well you also have me to hang onto for that," Wesley said, and they both laughed.

As the ferris wheel got closer and closer to the top, they could see more and more of the fair.

"We should go on that one next," Alyex said, pointing to a wildly spinning ride under a brightly colored pavilion thing. "That looks fun."  
"Are you scared yet?" Wesley asked.

"I'm _trying_ to distract myself, thank you very much," Alyex gave him a playful glare.

Wesley started rocking back and forth, keeping his arm around her to add to the momentum so their chair moved along with them.

"No no no no," Alyex shrieked, convulsing into giggles, "you're going to make us fall!"

Wesley laughed and kept rocking them as Alyex gripped the sides with a death grip. "I'm trying to help you get over your fear," he taunted.

"It's not working bruh," she scooted closer to him and then with a smooth movement reached over and knocked his hat off his head.

"Hey!" Wesley watched his cap plummet to the earth far below them. "What was that for?"

"For scaring me, you goof! Let's just hope we don't get stuck or something," she poked him in the ribs which then started a tickle war and some dumb selfies and before they knew it, they were back on solid ground.

After retrieving Wesley's hat, they set off to the spinny ride. Alyex didn't pull away as he held her hand.

"I haven't done something this fun in a really long time," she said.

"Now that you mention it, me too. Thanks," Wesley said.

"Thanks for being so nice to me," Alyex blushed again, but by now Wesley had decided it was really cute. "I…I've never really had a friend to do fun things together like this before."

She didn't look at him as they walked, only brushed her hair behind her ears nervously. Wesley watched her. Maybe this was what Georgia meant about being real.

"I guess now that you mention it, I haven't either," he admitted. "Being a prince and all, with two older brothers and an older sister, they never really had much time for me. And I never had normal friends."

Alyex smiled at him. "I'm glad we're friends, then," she said. "Or whatever the Selection makes us, I guess." He laughed at her silliness and swung their hands wildly between them.

They took more dumb selfies in the line for the ride as they waited, and then climbed in. The sun was setting so it was kind of weird to still be wearing sunglasses, so Wesley just had to hope no one looked too closely at him. He was sad that his date with Alyex was coming to end, but he had still had two more dates tonight that he had scheduled.

In the end, he was glad that their date was over because the combination of all the nachos and funnel cakes with the spinning ride made him puke into the closest receptacle as soon as they got off, which happened to be Alyex's hat.

But still, all around good times.

…

If the last three dates were any indication of the fact that things were getting better, Wesley was hopeful for Date #4 with Veyra. His original plan was to close down an entire ice rink that was constructed in downtown Angeles (not that it was slightly not summer anymore) in a glass pavilion to have a private but highly visible ice-skating date with her. He took a hint from his date with Alyex and decided to go incognito again. Also, because there wasn't exactly time for him and the camera crew to change back to the original plan. Oops.

They met up at a close by a coffee shop, something Wesley knew Veyra would appreciate. He found the former secret agent attired in all black sipping an iced coffee as she stood at the windowed front wall, watching people pass.

"Why do I feel like this is your aesthetic?" he asked, trying to surprise her by coming up behind her.

She wasn't fazed, turning around calmly. She smirked. "I knew you were there, Shreve. You're lucky I did. And why do I feel like this is entirely not yours?"

He grimaced. "I'm pretending to be normal." The cap was still on, along with a hoodie now that the sun had gone down, and they were going to be on the ice, but without the sunglasses, it was a bit more obvious who he was.

"You're being waaaayy to inconspicuous," Veyra told him. "Just relax." She handed him the second iced coffee she had. "One of your awesome security guards bought these for us. You've been on like six dates today, so drink up because I'm really excited about ice skating."

"I've been on three," he corrected her. Last time they had spoken had been at the Victory Ball and she had opened up to him and he had tried to reciprocate but had failed. He was glad the awkwardness wasn't there anymore.

"Well, seems like six. It's all over the news and social media. Some of the girls won't stop following it all and making all these conspiracy theories," Veyra said, picking up her coat from the back of her chair and slipping it on.

Wesley grimaced as he followed her out of the coffee shop and onto the square that held the ice-skating rink the middle. "You make it sound dangerous."

"Well of course it is. Now you're down to fourteen of us and that means four of them are going to have to be eliminated before the Elite. You have five dates planned in the last two days, so they figure if they don't get asked soon, they're going home."

"Wow, you guys really put a lot of time into analyzing me," he joked. "I hadn't even analyzed it that much."

"They do," Veyra corrected him. "I figure whatever you decide will happen regardless, so I'm not going to waste time obsessing over it."

"Yeah, me neither," he said. They both laughed and continued to walk towards the rink, once again trying to ignore the subtle presence of Wesley's entourage. It wasn't exactly ice-skating weather, but it was cool enough to forget about summer for a couple of months. They made small talk as they picked up their rental gear and then sat down on a bench outside the glass-enclosed rink to put their skates on.

"You want me to tie those for you?" he asked Veyra.

She raised her eyebrows at him and smirked. "Uh, no. I'm perfectly capable."

"Right, you damsels don't do distress anymore."

"You're such an idiot," Veyra shook her head, but her voice held a hint of affection, and besides, he was learning that this girl was usually operated in a state of sarcasm.

"I'm trying to be cute," he said, noting to the presence of the camera crew trying to look natural on the bleachers outside. One dude was already on the ice along with a security officer.

Veyra stood up, wobbly in her skates as stood on the mats that gave them a little bit of traction until they got to the ice. "For me or for them?" she gestured over her shoulder and held his eye contact but didn't wait for an answer as she stepped onto the ice.

Wesley hesitated for a moment and then finished putting on his skates and followed her. She was already gliding around the edge rather cautiously, her black hair rippling around her. He was about to try to catch up with her, but as soon as he tried to balance on the ice, he ended up flat on his face, blocking the entrance to the rink. Quite a spectacle for a prince.

He muttered a few choice words and tried unsuccessfully to scramble to his feet, which only ensued in more slipping. He caught sight of one of his security guards getting up from the surrounding benches, but he waved him away. No need to draw even more attention.

He grabbed at the wall surrounding the rink and managed to pull himself up and out of the way, right as Veyra glided over to him.

"I forgot to mention this is my first-time ice skating," he said, not letting go of the wall.

His date smirked. "I forgot to ask." She held out her hand to him. "C'mon, it's not that hard."

"Wait, just to be clear, are you mad about the cameras? Because if you are I can have them leave."

Veyra's smirk turned into a cheeky grin. "Only now that you've fallen you want to send them away?"

"Something like that," he wrinkled his nose. "You catch on pretty quickly to everything, don't you?"

"I'm a secret agent, Shreve. And no offense, but you are not that hard to read at all." She stopped waiting for him to take her hand and took his instead. "But now we're ice skating. Let's go, let's go no more wasting time!" She tugged on his arm and he reluctantly let go of the wall and once again landed face first on the ice.

"Shit!" He yelled, louder than he probably should have with all the children present. "Sorry," he apologized to no one.

Veyra was trying really hard not to laugh but not succeeding. "Are you okay?" she asked. Wesley laid still on the ice.

"I wanna die."

"No, you don't dumbass," she said, grabbing his arms and pulling him to a sitting position. "I'll help you."

It took several more tries and bruises and laughing but finally, with Veyra skating backward and holding onto his arms they managed to make a lap around the rink. He learned that the Calgary-native was only so good at skating because she played hockey in high school.

"Unfair," he commented.

"You're the one who came up with the idea, my dude."

After a while, Wesley could skate somewhat decently by himself, even though he knew he would brutally sore tomorrow from the number of times he had fallen. Veyra was doing little pirouettes and skating in circles around him literally as they talked. He decided to steer away from the Selection, and they talked about her high school days, her hobbies playing piano and saxophone, and other trivial things. She told him about a few of her missions that weren't overly classified, despite his claims that he was a prince, so he probably had a higher security clearance than her. A few people acted like they may have recognized them, and a group of teenage girls was brave enough to come up and ask for a few selfies, but surprisingly, Wesley didn't find himself fazed. They watched another couple doing some crazy tricks for a while.

"Ayyy, we can do that," Wesley said, pointed them out as the guy swung the girl around and around in a dizzying whirl.

Veyra laughed. "You want to do that?" She laughed some more.

"What?"

"Bruh, like an hour and a half ago, you were squirming around on the entrance."

"I wasn't _squirming,_ " Wesley protested. "And besides, I've had a very good teacher."

Veyra thought about for a moment. "Okay, let's try it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not? Start with lifting me up,"

"Aw, hell yeah. Let's do this."

He skated towards her and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up but forgot about the unexpected wait he now had to balance. The next thing he knew they were both lying on the ice. Veyra was laughing so hard for a second, he thought she was crying.

"Somehow I knew that was going to happen," she said around giggles.

Wesley blinked a couple times to clear his head and slowly sat up, holding his arm where he had landed. "Well, that was fun."

Veyra tried to stand but slipped back down again. "Except for the fact that I think I sprained my ankle."

"Oh no. Are you serious?" Wesley panicked. "I am so so so sorry."

"Relax, Shreve," Veyra chuckled. "I'm not going to die. You okay?"

Wesley tried to stand up, but when he used his hands to push up off the ice, a spasm of pain through his wrist stopped him.

"Uh, maybe not. Veyra, why did you let me do this? This was a terrible idea."

"Shreve, you dropped me! And it was your idea!"

At the same time, they both saw one of the camera guys filming their spill and burst out laughing.

In the end, they both had to take their skates off to get off the ice in one piece. Wesley went ahead and sent the camera crew back to the palace. He called Nicole while security drove both of them both to an urgent care office that he was going to be late back tonight and that he was going to miss their Good Press Vibes ™ meeting.

They both got checked out, with Wesley ending up in a sling for a few days, having sprained his wrist from landing wrong and Veyra having a sprained ankle and crutches for a week from him dropping her. Wesley apologized over and over again but Veyra wasn't mad. In fact, somehow, she found the whole situation hilarious. Neither of the sprains was that bad so he guessed that helped. It was nine o'clock before they got back to the palace. They missed dinner, but Wesley had convinced his security detail to take them through a fast-food drive-through.

"My mom's going to kill when she finds out about this," Wesley said, helping Veyra hop up the front steps with his good arm. "But this is the most fun I've had in a long time."

"That's just because you got twenty-piece chicken nuggets," Veyra said, poking him the ribs as one of the guards unlocked the doors from them. "Before that, you wouldn't stop bitching about your wrist."

"Be quiet," he whispered as they stepped quietly inside. Wesley handed Veyra her crutches back as she leaned against him. "If anyone catches me, I'm dead.

"They'll all find out soon enough. Those guys recorded it, plus crutches and a sling aren't that easy to hide."

"Ugh, why are you always right."

"I just am. Now since this is your fault can you help me up the stairs?"

"It's not—okay, okay, it _might_ have been my fault."

With much giggling and hopping and dropping the crutches over and over again, the two managed to get up the second floor.

"So, I probably owe you coffee every day for the rest of your life," Wesley said as they walked down the long hallway.

"It would be a start for almost killing me."

"Have I mentioned that I'm sorry?"

"Only about a million times," Veyra said, stopping next to one of the doors. "But it's totally okay. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much."

Wesley hesitated. "You don't think I was trying too hard, do you? Because I promise you, I wasn't. It was just you and me getting third wheeled."

Veyra brushed her hair out of her eyes and slowly looked up to meet his eyes. "I think that there's a lot more to you than just the guy who always makes jokes and is a walking comedy sketch. But that's also a big part of you, and I really enjoyed hanging out with him."

She didn't look away. And then she did, right at his lips.

Oh. Oh no.

Immediately his palms started to sweat and his heart was pounding in his chest.

It was the perfect moment to kiss her. But that would mean the first kiss of the Selection and commitment and in the back of his mind, something stopped him. Or someone.

"Haha, I did too, he's pretty cool," Wesley joked, his voice coming out way louder than expected.

Veyra blinked and then quickly pasted on her smirk. "You're such a dumbass, Shreve."

"Right, well I'm going to go pass out in a haze of the painkillers they gave us," he said. "But I'll see you around, yeah?"

Wesley spun around to make a hasty retreat, but Veyra stopped him.

"Hey wait,"

He turned around, and the next thing he knew Veyra dropped both of her crutches and grabbed his hand and with a move that was probably an unfair secret agent one, pulled him towards her to close the distance. She put her other hand on his neck, stood on tiptoe on her good foot, and pressed her lips against his.

As quickly as she had done it, she pulled back, leaving him slightly uncertain that it had happened at all.

"That was for dropping me," she said, smirking.

She did that a lot. And she called him Shreve which was endearing and made him want to kiss her every time she said it. And she was so beautiful, standing there with her black hair a mess around her shoulders, her dark eyes sparkling. She was sweet and hilarious and adorable—

Oh no. Oh no. This was not good.

"Um, I have to go," he blurted out and practically ran back to his room.


	22. The Meanest Thing You Ever Did

**GONE FOR A HOT MINUTE having a quarter-life crisis and deciding all my original projects weren't as much fun as this one. Lots of drama in this chapter, it's me continuing to indulge my writing needs oops. Some parts were really hard to describe but hopefully it makes sense. I love you all so much.**

 **MY BEAUTIFUL REVIEW SQUAD THANK YOU SO MUCH—** ladyanj ( **I stan you too sis hugs),** Nameless **(tysm babe)** , Epiccupcake28 ( **he's keepin them for political reasons and thank you! I appreciate all your reviews!)** , Doctor Kay Strange ( **YOUR REVIEW GAVE ME LIFE)** , mnbvcxz-xx ( **aww glad you thought so, I was trying to make it funny!)** RunawayGirl8125 ( **girl that's a MOOD)** , delovies ( **love you bitch)**

-shades

…

Lissa had been expecting the Governess Aesthetic to be a lot more pencil skirts and high heels and adorable kids and singing My Favorite Things to them during a thunderstorm than whatever it was she was currently doing.

"Guys," she said for the millionth time, raising her voice to be heard over Evie and Sophie's incessant giggling as they sat on the sofa across from hers in the Woman's Room. This time, she tried softening her tone. "Remember, we're reading?"

The two quieted down momentarily and went back to the picture books they had on their laps, and Lissa chose to ignore the soft whispers from between them. There were some fights she realized she couldn't win. She had been their governess for two months, and now the girls had a tutor, even though she still had to be with them during their lessons. She had the brilliant idea last night to go downtown to a bar with half-price margaritas with Gracie last night to keep her friend company while Damian was traveling with Colin, and it was safe to say that today, Lissa was hungover.

She tried to look busy as she stared at the pages of her own book, but she hadn't focused on a single word of this book. Being a governess to two kid princesses was too demanding to let herself escape into a book. The only Governess Aesthetic she had currently going for her were her heels and only because after sleeping through her alarm, she had tripped on them from where she had left them on the floor last night—actually probably early this morning. She didn't have time to shower either, and her dirty hair was in an extra messy messy bun and her makeup was reduced to some crooked eyeliner and mascara. All in all, along with her wrinkled jeans and random top that only matched because 75% of her closet was blush pink, today sucked.

"Miss Lissa, I'm bored," Evie complained loudly.

"Me too," Sophie chorused. "I hate reading!"

"It's important to read, especially for princesses," Lissa told them seriously, leaning forward on the sofa. They completely ignored her. Lissa closed her eyes with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was the lack of a power outfit, she just knew it.

Both girls had the same idea at once and jumped off their couch opposite hers.

"Let's play hide and seek!" Sophie cried.

"Please, Miss Lissa?" Evie asked, yanking on her arm.

Lissa kept it together long enough to give them permission. "Okay, go ahead, it's a good time for a break anyway." She seized their distraction to lean back and close her eyes for a sec. She was never drinking with Gracie ever again. That girl got serious boyfriend withdrawals.

The Woman's Room was a little weird when they were the only occupants, but Christine had always thought it was a good idea for her to take the girls there after their lessons were done, due to tradition and all that. None of the Selected were here now, which was nice. When they were, Lissa could never help feeling like a judgmental bitch, and being hungover would have only made it worse. She just always found that being around them brought out her bad side. It didn't help that they usually stole Evie and Sophie's attention off her, or that five years ago she had been in the same place, or that they were all so perfect. Not to mention the TV shows and magazines that had them everywhere one looked, usually slathered all over Wesley and probably trending on social media too.

Okay, maybe she was the tiniest bit jealous.

But only because her own relationship hadn't been going too well lately. Apparently, Wesley's had. After doing five dates in 24 hours last weekend, he now was out with one of the Selected every day, if not more. Trips to the beach, to downtown Angeles, walks in the gardens, every meal imaginable from pre-breakfast coffee to brunch to after dinner desserts and cocktails, there were too many dates to count. Lady Veyra seemed to receive a good amount of these dates, Lissa noticed in all the coverage. No one could get enough of her on crutches and Wesley in his sling, it seemed. Whatever.

Lissa sat back up before she fell asleep and tried her best to resume the Governess Aesthetic and at least look like she was reading while she texted Gracie some crying emojis, hiding her phone behind her book. All of the sudden, the careening and screaming stopped, and the Woman's Room went quiet. Too quiet.

"Guys?" Lissa asked, her words echoing off the high ceilings and right back to her. They were playing hide and seek, but that didn't mean both of them should be hiding. She heard one of them shushing the other and quickly sighed in relief. She really cared about them and cared a lot more when she wasn't suffering like today.

She set her book down and stuck her phone in her pocket. "Okay girls, it's almost time for you guys to go back upstairs and get ready for dinner."

No response. A few giggles. And then a few more that only someone who spent as much time with the princesses as she did would know absolutely did not belong to them. "Sophie? Evangeline?" Lissa wondered towards the source of the noise in the corner of the Woman's Room. It was a huge room, dominated by its floor to ceiling windows and yellow accents. She saw movement by one of the windows, the curtains fluttering. Each window had a sort of well, about a foot of space to step into before you got to the actual glass, like a window seat without a seat. The curtain was pulled about halfway across one half of the window, and she saw it move again.

"Is this your way of getting me to play hide and seek too?" she said aloud, approaching it.

"Shhhh!" she heard someone that was not either of her girl's hiss. "She's coming!"

"Be quiet Aidan!" she heard Evie say. Lissa grinned. It wasn't the first time the little prince had snuck in here or was bothering his sisters. She should have known.

Lissa jerked back the heavy curtain. "Caught ya!"

"Hey!" Sophie cried. "Aidan cheated."

"I'm not even playing!" her younger brother retorted.

But Lissa wasn't exactly focusing on the kids.

Wesley, sitting next to Aidan and covered in sweat and wearing workout clothes, gave her a sheepish smile. "Oops?" he offered.

"Uh…what are you doing here?" she asked him.

"We were spying!" Aidan told her, tugging on her shirt. "But it was really boring because no one was in here except you guys."

"Are you serious?" Lissa demanded, directing it towards Wesley. Despite her best efforts to avoid him, he just kept popping up and Hungover Lissa wasn't having it. "Spying?"

He shrugged. "It was Aidan's idea and since we're not actually allowed in here-"

Just then, they all heard the sound of the doors opening. Lissa turned her head just in time to see Ladies Alyex and Ophelia walking in, both already in evening gowns for dinner. Shit.

"And I'll never live this down if I get caught in here!" Wesley hissed. The next thing she knew, Wesley grabbed her around the waist and violently pulled her back into the tiny space behind the curtain. Lissa lost her balance in her stupid shoes and fell straight into Wesley's chest. They both tumbled against the glass and then hit the ground, Lissa falling on top of Wesley, barely avoiding smashing the three heirs to the throne.

Neither of the girls in the room appeared to have heard it as Lady Eleanor ran up behind them, heels clacking.

"Hey guys, wait up!"

They started chatting about their dresses or something, but all Lissa could focus on was the fact that she was hiding behind a curtain that anyone could walk up to and see the five of them, four of which happened to be members of the royal family, smashed into about three feet of space. She and Wesley were face to face on the floor, he still had his arms around her, and she was on top of him.

And with her legs fitting in between his and no room to maneuver, there was absolutely no way to disentangle herself without revealing the entire crew to the Woman's Room.

Oh no, this was _not_ how she wanted this day to go at all. Not. At. All.

They heard the doors open again and more voices filled the room.

"Lillian, I love your gown!" She heard Eleanor say, her voice sugary sweet. Someone else was greeting Alyex, it sounded like Iris.

Wesley released his grip on Lissa and sat up a little bit, just to shush his mini-me, Aidan, who looked way too happy about their predicament. "Stay quiet," he said barely in a whisper. Aidan and the girls grinned. Wesley shifted his gaze to her. "Sorry," he mouthed.

Lissa just shook her head, trying to get her weight off his chest with her hands on either side of him, but all she succeeded in doing was almost motorboating him. He caught her and pulled her to him tightly before she could fall off the top of him and take out the three kids sitting parallel to them.

Lissa was starting to break into a sweat. It was becoming increasingly awkward, as she only had two options, lay her head on his chest, or keep her head up and be in Extremely-Close-Kissing-Proximity. There was also boobage to consider, and where the heck was she supposed to look and put her hands and she was far too aware of his body beneath hers. His workout clothes and sweaty hair indicated that he was post-workout, and as much as she tried to push it out of her mind, there was no denying that physically, Wesley wasn't the sixteen-year-old kid she had known in a past life.

The three kids stared at them with wide eyes when they weren't peeking around the curtain. Lissa could only be thankful for the fact that there wasn't a gap of space between the bottom of the curtain and the floor. She didn't want to imagine what would happen if they were caught like this. Lissa had the horrifying realization that dinner was going to be soon, and she had to get the girls upstairs to change and Wesley probably did too. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried NOT to remember all the times she and Wesley had ever been this close. There had been a few times during their in-Selection vacation to Trentworth when he had snuck into her room for a cuddle session because back then he was basically an actual puppy. Probably when she kissed him in that fountain too. There had been plenty of other times, most of which she hadn't thought about in ages. So much had changed since then.

They could hear the sounds of the Selected talking right outside their awful hiding place. It didn't sound like all of them, thankfully, but there was a good amount. After a while, the only thing to do was to listen to their conversation and hope they left soon.

"But what did you guys do?" Eleanor was demanding. "Did he kiss you?"

"What? No!" that sounded like Iris. "We barely know each other. We just went to the zoo in Angeles."

"Did he say anything?"

"He said a lot of things, Eleanor," Iris said. "What is with you and having to know every detail?"

"Probably because she's the only girl left who Wesley has never taken on a date." This came from Dresden, Lissa was pretty sure. Beneath her, Wesley grimaced. They made eye contact for a second before Lissa looked away.

"And _you_ haven't been since everyone played polo," Eleanor shot back.

They heard Dresden chuckle. "Not necessarily true. We had drinks together last night, I just didn't tell anyone about it and he didn't have all the cameras there."

"Lucky," this came from Lillian. "When we went hiking, they followed us the whole time. It was so annoying."

"I'm so jealous he took you hiking," Alyex said to Lillian. "I've always wanted to explore more of Angeles, it's so different from Hudson."

"Aw, I know what you mean. I don't think I've ever felt like heat like this before!" Lillian said. Ophelia started asking Iris about the trip to the zoo, and it was nice to hear that not all the girls were fighting over dates. Lissa had many fond memories of hanging out in the Woman's Room with girls she was still friends with today. Of course, there were a few of them that were bitchy back then too.

As Ophelia told them about her brunch with Wesley that morning, Lissa got a first-hand account of all the latest Selection drama she had been avoiding in the all the press about it. Maybe if she could sit up without kicking the curtain hiding them or any of the heirs to the throne, there was a slightly dangerous chance she could not be locked in an embrace with Wesley anymore. There was also the slightly dangerous chance she was just going to motorboat him again, so Lissa decided to stay put, and prayed that the girls would leave soon.

"It was just a really nice brunch, Eleanor," Ophelia was saying just a few yards away from where they were hiding. "I'm sorry but I don't understand what you gain by knowing everything he said to me."

"Did you guys have mimosas?" A new voice asked. It took Lissa a moment to run through all the girls to identify her as Vera. "Because I feel like he'd get totally drunk off of those before noon if he could."

Ophelia laughed. "We both had one, but they were pretty weak. He said so many times."

Wesley cringed again underneath her.

They heard the door open again, but it only brought a new arrival, not salvation.

"Are you guys going to have a gossip fest every day before dinner now?" Georgia said, presumably having just come in. "Because it's getting annoying."

"Are you going to sneak around and pretend that you don't smoke outside when we can all smell it on you?" Dresden sneered.

"Oh, come on, Dresden, don't be rude," Ophelia said.

"I wasn't sneaking," Georgia said as if it was totally obvious.

"Just spying on the monarchy again?" Vera accused.

"Come on, guys." Lissa was pretty sure Iris said. "Can't we just have girl time?"

"I never spied on the monarchy," Georgia didn't respond to Iris. She spoke quietly so that you had to strain to listen to her. Total power move.

"Oh, sure. You keep saying that, but somehow, I don't believe you," Vera said back. Lissa couldn't see, but she was willing to bet Georgia was rolling her eyes.

"If we're saying things that we don't believe I don't believe Dresden went on a date last night," Eleanor piped up. Georgia and Vera ignored her.

"Believe what you want, Vera. I really don't care."

"I think you would care if the whole country found out you were a spy."

They heard Georgia sigh deeply. "Everyone already knows that."

"I think she means like not a hero spy girl but like a traitor spy girl. Still a badass though," Ophelia offered.

"Thanks," Georgia said.

"I still think you're a rebel, and you just lie about everything," Vera said, getting into yelling territory now. "I lost everything because of people like you." There were loud footsteps, not high heels though because Vera never wore them, and then the door slammed.

"Okaaaaay," Dresden muttered. "Well, I guess I better get dressed for dinner." The door opened and closed again, but Iris, Lillian, Alyex, and Ophelia went back to talking about their dates and helping each other craft social media posts. Eleanor occasionally chimed in for more details, but mostly turned her attention on grilling Georgia about her dating life with Wesley and getting one-word answers. Two down. Six to go.

The three kids were now looking at their uncle and governess with wide eyes, getting more anxious about hiding as the minutes wore on. Lissa's arm was falling asleep from laying on it in vain attempt trying to keep her tits off Wesley as best she could, and her watch told her that if they Woman's Room didn't clear out in twenty minutes Queen Christine was going to come to the royal nursery and find her kids missing. It sounded like Georgia and Ophelia may have left at one point, but there were still other girls to worry about.

Wesley caught her eyes and jerked his head in a vague attempt to communicate. Lissa shrugged a little, having no idea what he was on about.

"Roll over," he mouthed. Lissa shook her head, but Wesley ignored her and started to sit up. Since she was laying on her stomach on top of him Lissa had no choice but to roll over, getting her weight off Wesley and onto the floor. A few very tense seconds passed, but they finally managed to both sit up, though still almost on top of each other in the small space. She had to practically sit on his feet and his knees were pressing into his back, but at least they weren't how they were. From the happy chatter from the remaining Selected about the movie stars they had met at the Victory Ball, no one noticed the slightly wiggling curtain.

The minutes wore on and on, and Lissa was ready to do half-price margarita night with or without Gracie all over again to celebrate the fact that she was probably about to lose her job. She should have Evie and Sophie in the dining room like right now, and she still had to take them back to the nursery and get them ready and she was so dead.

"You guys ready to head over to the dining room?" Eleanor asked, _finally._ "I'm going to see if I can talk to Wesley before dinner."

"Yeah sure, why not," Alyex said, and there was the rustle of evening gowns and high heels on the marble as they hopefully, hopefully, were leaving. The doors opened and closed, and then there was blissful silence.

"Is everyone gone," Wesley whispered. He practically shoved Aidan aside to look out of the crack in the curtain.

"This isn't fun anymore," Aidan proclaimed.

"They are. Let's get out of here." Wesley said, standing up. He held out his hand to Lissa, but she ignored him and got up on her own.

"I am so dead. I'm probably going to lose my job because of you! What were you thinking?" she demanded, getting the princesses up. "I had a perfectly valid excuse to be in here, and you have to pull me into your hiding place like it's a game? Seriously?" She ran her hands through her hair angrily.

Wesley grimaced. "Oops?"

Lissa rolled her eyes and somehow managed not to say "you're so childish," as much as she wanted to, it was kind of a mean thing to say.

"You need a shower. Come on girls," she said, taking Evie and Sophie's hands and marching out of the window well. Of course, Wesley and Aidan had to follow her. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, going to take a shower?"

"Well…can't you, like—"

"There's only one door, Lissa," Wesley reminded her.

"Whatever," Lissa turned her back to him and practically dragged the girls with her. She was so _not_ in the mood for anything right now. The possy of heirs to the throne, their uncle, and one pissed off governess left the Woman's Room pretty suspiciously. There was no one in the Main Hall, though the dining room was occupied by the sounds of voices.

"I'm so sorry about that," Wesley said as Lissa continued to ignore him. "I just panicked. I shouldn't have been there in the first place, but I was coming back from the gym and Aidan ambushed me and I couldn't let my favorite uncle status slide."

"Just don't make a habit of it," Lissa tried to be casual. She was not at all acknowledging how it was maybe kinda a tiny bit nice to be held by him, to feel his heartbeat, and—

Memories. That's all they were, she told herself. Good memories.

Wesley flashed her some finger guns and grabbed his nephew and they both headed towards the dining room, despite their extremely casual dress. Lissa rolled her eyes at his retreating back, so not in the mood to be nice. She was going to have to haul ass to get the princesses back to the nursery and come up with a good cover story for why they were so late. She started towards the stairs with Evie and Sophie in tow, but she was stopped.

"Hey, wait!" It was Eleanor, coming out from the dining room Wesley had just disappeared into. "It's Lissa, right?"

Lissa turned around, gritting her teeth, already imagining the search parties that were going dispatch any second now. "Yes?"

"You were in the Woman's Room just now? With Wesley?" Eleanor smiled sweetly. "I saw you all come out together."

"Uh…" Lissa stammered. "No, I was just getting the girls from him. He was in the royal family's sitting room with all the kids."

"I'm pretty sure I saw you guys leave the Woman's Room. Their sitting room is quite a way from there." Eleanor's fingers brushed over the necklace she always wore. Yeah, that necklace that used to be Lissa's until Drunk Wesley had decided to give it to the girl from her same province.

Lissa smiled sweetly right back at Eleanor. "Well, you saw wrong. Excuse me, Lady Eleanor."

Without a backward glance, Lissa grabbed the girls and dragged them up the stairs. Christine was waiting for them, already changed for dinner, texting Lissa on her phone trying to figure out where her kids were. She accepted the excuse about losing track of the time in the Woman's Room and how the Selected were fawning over the girls, and Lissa just hoped she didn't feel the need to verify the story. She felt bad lying to Christine, because not only was she the queen, but she was also really sweet, but she couldn't exactly tell her she was hiding from the Selected and just so happened to be lying on top of Wesley.

Today had been wild.

…


	23. We Had Last Night

**SIS UPDATING IN LIKE 12 DAYS? WHAT? It's a hella long chapter again but I kept adding to it because I'm extra. All the love to** Nameless, Virtue01, mnbvcxz-xx, Epiccupcake28, delovlies, **and** RunawayGirl8125 **for your reviews! I mentioned a lot of songs in this chapter, and even though this story is set in the future I figured it would be more fun to include songs from now instead of making things up yall it's fanfiction. Also more flashbacks because I'm extra. MASSIVE APOLOGIES Vera and Veyra both appear together in this chapter, but you guys are smart. I believe in you.**

 **-shades**

…

The smoke in the air was thick, stinging his eyes, burning his lungs, and making it impossible to see. The bones of the plane shrieked as the metal collapsed, destroying his only chance of survival. He stared at the corpse of his friend, and grabbed his forearm, slick with blood. He didn't know what came over him as he shook the body, the terror was so real.

"Drake, come on. Wake up, Drake. Wake up, you dumbass, wake up!" He cried, his voice cracking. He coughed, trying to breathe with all the smoke. The trees were on fire now, and there were other voices and gunshots.

He shook the body of his friend as hard as he could, blood splattering on his face. "You can't be dead. You can't be dead. YOU CAN'T BE DEAD!"

Drake's forehead was a mangled mass of blood and bone, his leg was blown off, his brown eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky.

He was hitting him, trying to get him to get up, punching him in the face.

"No, no, no, NO!"

The dirt four feet away from him exploded, and then again two feet away, followed by retorts from guns.

"Royalist plane down!" Someone shouted, hidden by the smoke.

There was important information on that plane. It was on fire, but it would burn slowly, with the gasoline spilled all over the trees, and being made of metal. He saw the other gasoline tank, intact and not yet burning from the crash. He pulled out his sidearm, fumbling to load it his hands were shaking so bad. He fired three bullets into the tank, and it exploded. The heat washed over him, replacing the cold momentarily as he hid his face in the ground to protect his eyes from the blast.

He blindly fired the remaining bullets into the smoke, but there was only silence.

He reloaded, pulling Drake's ammo out of his pack too.

The forest went silent, except for the flames.

Maybe they were gone.

Slowly, he released his grip on the gun, and grabbed Drake by the coat, shaking his friend in a desperate attempt to turn back time.

He didn't realize that he was screaming until the bullets were back, and he was only saved when they entered the body of his dead friend instead of him.

Drake was dead.

The terror burst through him, even in the cold he was sweating, his heart racing so fast, breathing coming in gasps between the smoke and the fear.

He didn't say goodbye, he just ran…

" _You're really the best, you know that?" she whispered as he grabbed her hand and tiptoed up to the third floor, creeping up the stairs like a ninja even though it was just a game of sardines._

" _Yeah, I know," he said as they came to the landing. Empty._

" _Shoot, they're not hiding up here." Panicking, he turned and ran down the stairs._

" _It's not a matter of life or death!" she called after him, laughing…_

Wesley threw off his blankets as hard as he could as he sat up. He sucked in as much air as he could, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough to chase them all away. He was out of bed before he quite realized it, and only stopped to grab his hoodie out of the closet before he was slamming his door behind him and running down the hallway.

Dawn was one of the few times the palace was completely quiet. Only a few guards were out and about to witness him in all his pajama glory as he hurried down the stairs.

Get out. Get out. Run.

It was still hammering in Wesley's mind and like a wild animal he obeyed as he stepped outside onto the terrace that spilled down into the gardens, still shrouded in half-darkness in the early hour. It was quiet out here, aside from the faint hum of some sprinklers further off. The doors slammed behind him, and Wesley squeezed his eyes shut. He stuffed his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt, finding his lighter. He took it out and flicked it open and closed, over and over again, but his stupid hands were still shaking. He took three deep breaths, but his heart was still pounding in his chest.

The memories never ran far anymore. It was becoming a steadier occurrence, the same things over and over again. And just like the real thing, every time he thought he was going to die, he would get this little memory stuck in his head of Lissa at Trentworth. It was all so real it took him a moment to realize what was happening when he woke up. Sometimes he didn't even need to be asleep.

He was going out of his freaking mind.

Behind him, the doors opened, and Wesley whirled around, just as surprised to see Georgia as she was to see him. It was probably the only time he had ever seen the tall cool blonde caught off guard, and he liked to think it was because of her awe of his impeccable pajama pants fashion. It didn't last more than a moment before she pressed her lips together and fixed the impassive look she always wore.

"Are you making a habit of crashing my spot? This is the second time."

Wesley gave her an awkward grimace, remembering the rainy night after the Report interviews when she had sat silently with him. "I didn't know it was your spot."

"It's your palace," Georgia shrugged. She didn't say anything as she busied herself with lighting a cigarette. Seeing her do something so normal was weird, but it reminded him she was actually just a person like him. Sometimes, she was acted so cold and isolated it was hard to see her as anything more than that girl on the posters. It s _eemed_ like she had warmed to him a tiny bit since they had first met, so he counted it as progress. She casually typed something on her phone as she smoked, looking like she had just come from the palace gym without makeup, hair in a ponytail. She was wearing leggings and a zipped sweatshirt over a workout top, her cheeks slightly pink and sweat dotting her hairline.

"Are you going to keep staring?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.

Wesley looked away, an unexpected heat flushing his cheeks. "Sorry." At least his heart had stopped racing. He pulled his hands into the sleeves of his sweatshirt and turned his gaze onto the empty gardens.

"I know I look like shit right now, that's why I try to come out here so early," she gestured vaguely with her cigarette. "I make myself workout before I have one."

"Can I be a bum and ask you for one?"

Georgia fixed her eyes on him for a long moment, before taking a box out of her sweatshirt pocket and tossing it to him. "I never thought a prince would have to bum his cigarettes."

Wesley laughed quietly as he lit one and then tossed the box back to her. "You and everyone else I've bummed off of. My valet usually gets them for me, but he doesn't start until seven. And don't worry, you look-" he stopped, deciding that saying "normal" would be kinda harsh. "You look fine. Like a badass."

Georgia glanced at him and raised her eyebrows as he took in a deep breath of smoke and rolled his shoulders a couple of times to try to relax.

"You're going to take my cigarettes, give me bad compliments and invade my spot?" she said.

Wesley couldn't be sure, but did she actually smile then?

"Wait, did you just make a joke? Or at least use sarcasm?"

Georgia shook her head slightly, a tiny smile curving her lips. "If you have to ask, it was probably terrible, wasn't it?" She looked down at her phone again. "You're the one who's jokes, baby," she mocked in a low voice, saying what he had told her on their date last week.

Wesley grinned and looked down. "Wow, I didn't think I would ever hear you make a joke."

Georgia raised her cigarette between her index and middle finger to her lips, studying him. She blew the smoke out lazily. "So, I have an excuse, but what's yours for being out here so early?"

Wesley shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

The understatement of the year. He'd been intentionally staying out late with the Selected, his family, or his Selection coordinators, and it still took him a couple of drinks to be able to make himself finally lie down and go to sleep. He was lucky if he got a couple hours before the nightmares woke him. He'd decided as long as he didn't go into REM sleep or whatever it was called, he would be okay.

It usually worked. Not today.

Georgia pressed her lips together. "I can tell."

"Hey, at least I gave you a compliment," Wesley teased. He took another hit off his cigarette, realizing his stupid hands finally weren't shaking anymore.

"I'm not trying to give you a compliment. I'm trying to be honest. You look awful."

"Well, gee thanks," Wesley muttered.

"You might think otherwise, but sleeping is kind of important to your health, and you can't just not do it if you want to, you know, be healthy." She glanced back down at her phone. "Get some pills or something."

He kicked at the concrete with his bare feet. "Yeah, I probably should."

They were quiet for a moment until Georgia held out her phone to him. "Have you seen this?"

It was an article summarizing every single date he had been on in the last week, complete with a massive number of pictures. Even for the ones he didn't have a camera crew with, there were still pictures from his and the ladies' social media. Wesley scrolled briefly through it.

"It's kind of insane," Wesley chuckled.

"Got any plans for today?" Georgia asked as he handed her phone back.

Wesley shrugged. "I have a meeting for the Council that they're actually letting me attend for once this morning. And then another meeting with all my Selection coordinators. I was kinda going to take the day off from dates today since it's Saturday. but I was thinking I would do some karaoke or something with some of you later this evening, just for fun. I take it you would not like to be invited?"

Georgia raised her eyebrows. "What was your first clue?"

Wesley wrinkled his nose. "You just don't suit me as a karaoke girl."

She shook her head and laughed softly. "I'll sit this one out, but thanks."

She kneeled down to put out the remains of her cigarette on the concrete, but not leaving it there. "Well, I've gotta run, but you should ask Ophelia. She likes to sing."

"Thanks for the smoke," Wesley called after her as she walked back to the doors.

"And don't leave cigarette butts lying around outside, either. Birds eat them." Georgia said over her shoulder. She slipped quietly back inside, leaving him all alone once more.

Wesley shook his head as he copied her and put his out. Birds or no birds, if his mom or the really anyone else found out he was starting to smoke more and more, he was going to be in big trouble, so he never left evidence lying around. Although he figured it was only a matter of time before Joseph sent pictures or a statement to some gossip magazine. He was the only person who knew besides Georgia. Not that it was a big deal, even though he had started to smoke with more frequency. It was just something he did when he was nervous or jittery. And it just so happened he was a lot of the time.

He headed back inside. There were a few servants out by now, but he had composed himself enough that no one really looked twice after they judged his pajama pants. Wesley was just glad he didn't run into any of the Selected—Georgia seeing him was bad enough. He went back to his rooms, ready for a well-deserved day off from dating.

He spent the morning in meetings, one for the council, one with the Selected coordinators. He even had time to join everyone for lunch for once, something he had lately been saving for dates. He got in a workout and fulfilled his favorite-uncle role and played baseball outside with Aidan, Evie, and Sophie and the Shreave dogs, Finn and Jack. It was Saturday, so Lissa was off, and luckily there was no repeat of what had happened the other day. For which she was still angry about, not that they were great friends, but at least they had been on more friendly terms—at least until Wesley had decided to tackle her to avoid being caught spying by the Selected. Dumbass.

He spent the remainder of the afternoon doing his favorite activity, laying in bed eating chips and salsa and watching vine compilations until he got off his ass and made himself presentable for dinner. It was nice to finally get away from being the boyfriend of 14 girls. Ever since Callista's untimely departure and the ensuing drama and his 5 dates in 24 hours two weeks ago, he had been cramming as many dates as he could into each day. It was never too late to start getting serious, and he tried to go on at least one a day if not two or three. He was getting to know more and more of the ladies and definitely liked some of them more than others.

Tonight, was more for fun than anything. Of course, with all the kids, they had a small theater down in the basement near the Report studio, and it had this cool karaoke thing on it. He'd done it once before in the early years of the war when he'd visited for Christmas with Evie and Sophie and Aidan was still a baby. Wesley had had it set up for a proper karaoke night with snacks, sodas, and colored lights and a tacky disco ball hanging on the walls. Unfortunately, he was still on his alcohol ban by his mom, so he was going to have to do this sober, but that was a problem for later! He was in a pretty good mood from his me-time though and found that he could easily push everything else to remote corners of his mind. It might have been fun to invite the kids but no doubt they would end up embarrassing him more than he was already planning on embarrassing himself.

While the ladies were at their daily two-hour princess lessons with his sisters-in-law, he'd taped notes to the doors of three of them, telling them to meet him down here at nine, attire casual. It was better than having Joseph doing it for him, and he thought the girls might think it was cute. No cameras for this date, though of course, they would all have their phones. Wesley was just hoping no one would post a video of him belting his little heart out to bad pop music and ultimate bops. He'd taken Georgia's advice and invited Ophelia since she was an actress on Old Broadway, he figured she had some pipes. Speaking of pipes, he also invited Piper. She would probably hate karaoke, but Wesley was hoping that Ophelia, who was like, the nicest girl ever, would help her come out of her shell. Veyra was the last invitee. Okay, so maybe he was starting to have a little crush on her and the memory of her kissing him hadn't helped anything. But he also had to do something for putting her on crutches all last week, right?

All three arrived together, looking a bit confused as they hesitantly walked it, finding Wesley sitting by himself in the front and center really comfy chair, throwing popcorn in the air and trying to catch it in his mouth by himself.

"Hi guys!" he said brightly, "you're late." He missed the next handful and it scattered all over his face. "Oops."

Piper giggled at his actions and beamed.

"I thought you said this place was easy to find," Ophelia said, smiling her warm smile. "Vey was sure we were going to get arrested for trespassing down here."

"Hey, they almost tased me once when I first got here," Veyra said, coming over to steal some popcorn. "You could have said it was movie night, Shreave. I would have worn my P. J's."

"Nah, you look great," Wesley said, standing up. She did look really cute in black leather pants, those trendy little black and white sneakers he didn't know the name for, and a black tank top. "Besides, this is way cooler than movie night," he announced, using the remote to start up the karaoke thing. He picked up one of the three microphones from the chair next to him. "This is the purest of art forms, also known as karaoke."

"Oh, please no," Veyra groaned, face-palming with the biggest grin on her face. "I do not want to hear you sing."

"Ah, but we do have an actual singer in our midst," Wesley said, gesturing wildly to Ophelia. "And I have yet to hear you sing."

"I'm always a slut for karaoke," Ophelia said with a smirk. Veyra, Wesley, and Piper all started cracking up, because coming from Ophelia, it was an unexpected remark. "

Wesley clapped his hand on Piper's shoulder, over her plaid shirt. "And don't worry, no one is going to force anyone to sing," he said to her.

She smiled shyly up at him. "If you thought we weren't going to force you, you're wrong."

Veyra and Ophelia starting clapping and hooting at him, and Veyra tossed him one of the microphones.

Wesley grinned. "A'ight, I guess I'm up first, then!"

In his mind, he totally slayed his performance of "It's Raining Men", and the girls seemed to enjoy it, so he was basically already a pop star. Ophelia was looking like a goddess in the pink sundress she was wearing, and she sang like one too. In Wesley's mind, she took "I Will Survive" and beat it up in an alleyway.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE SO GOOD?" he demanded as Veyra demanded a turn.

Ophelia laughed. "My job is literally to sing on stage. I better hope I'm good," she shrugged. "Vey, hurry up and finally pick a song!"

Veyra took literally forever to find a Bruce Springsteen song she was happy with, but she got an A for enthusiasm. They all took several turns singing different songs. Wesley made Ophelia duet "My Heart Will Go On" with him, and Veyra kept singing classic rock songs she adored, but she stopped long enough to sing Disney songs with Ophelia. Piper wouldn't sing anything unless they all were singing, so they blew their vocal cords out singing (screaming) to that One Direction song that was Wesley's ultimate bop, and then had a snack break.

"I have to admit, I've never done karaoke sober before," Veyra admitted as she was inhaling Oreos.

Wesley popped the top of a can of Coke. "Yeah sorry. No one wants to see drunk me doing anything, much less karaoke, and I guess I'm still banned."

"Well, what if hypothetically one of us were to get drinks? And then, hypothetically, we could share them with you?" Ophelia asked.

"I bet you ten bucks you don't have the guts to sneak into the kitchen and steal something," Veyra challenged, eyeing him.

Wesley held out his hands. "Okay, first off, I'm not a thief."

"It's your own palace!" Piper squeaked out.

"True…"

Veyra raised her eyebrows at him. "That's what I thought."

Wesley opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out, so the next thing he knew he was marching out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Ophelia called after him.

"I think Veyra just dared me to steal from myself," he called back. The girls all ended up following him, so that's how he ended up in the kitchens at 11 pm stealing vodka from himself, basically. The kitchen wasn't a place he went to often, it was a place for the staff. Anything he wanted to eat he could always request.

Veyra snatched the bottle the moment he took it out of the liquor cabinet. "Wow," she said. "This looks…"

"Expensive," Ophelia finished for her.

"It is, so don't drop it." Wesley grinned as took the bottle back and after a little finagling, they managed to get it open. He found some shot glasses and filled four of them.

"I don't really want any," Piper said from behind Ophelia and Veyra.

Ophelia put her hand on Piper's shoulder. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I just haven't ever before."

"You sure?" Wesley asked.

Piper nodded. "You guys go ahead though."

Wesley handed out drinks to the other two and held two himself. "Ok, I'm evoking my status over all of you and saying if anyone takes a video of drunk me and posts it online without my consent, you're headed straight to the guillotine. Bottoms up!" He clinked the two shot glasses together and did his best to drink them at the same time, but it wasn't quite successful.

Veyra shook her head at him, biting back a smile. "Nerd."

"Alright, who wants to do some real karaoke?" Ophelia set her glass down.

"If anyone wants a chaser, I don't know where they keep that stuff, so tough luck," Wesley said.

"I don't know why you actually physically enjoy vodka," Veyra hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs. "It's nasty."

"That's why you do shots," Ophelia said.

"Okay fine, Miss Secret Agent," Wesley poured another shot for him and Ophelia. "Whatever you can find, you can have."

He and Ophelia toasted and drank. Veyra started scrounging around until she found some fancy white beer things that looked grosser than vodka, but even Piper relented with Veyra's discovery. Wesley was starting to get antsy as he waited for the alcohol to take effect. He hated to leave the girls, but he was dying for a smoke. He tried to tell himself he wasn't nervous or anything, but it was all his brain could fixate on. He had sent Joseph into town earlier to get him some cigarettes, and other than Georgia's this morning he hadn't had one all day. He finally excused himself outside to the usual spot, telling the others he was going back to the theater to get his phone so they could take selfies.

He was just trying to get the smoke smell off him by pulling on the fabric of his shirt several times when he realized he wasn't alone.

Vera was coming up the path from the dark of the gardens, wearing jeans and a t-shirt that looked like she had brought them from home. "Hey," she said upon seeing him standing there. Wesley quickly hid all the evidence in his jeans pockets, knowing he would have to return it to his room before rejoining his date.

"Hey, Vera. What are you up to out here?"

Vera shrugged and brushed her blonde hair back. "Just taking a walk. Your gardens are really nice this time of night."

"I like to think they're nice anytime, but whatever floats your boat," Wesley joked. Usually he found Vera to be pretty lighthearted and sassy around him, but lately, she had been subdued. He knew she had lost almost her entire family during the civil war from the Report interviews and had defiantly been through some shit.

"I'm still not used to being inside all the time," Vera came to a stop at the foot of the stairs leading onto the terrace. "What about you?"

"Oh…I just had to make a quick call to someone…important."

"Aren't you on another one of your dates right now? The girls wouldn't shut up at dinner about trying to guess what it was."

Wesley shrugged dramatically. "Oh, you know. Prince business calls."

She cocked her head. "I've always wondered if you use that as an excuse for everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. I'll leave you alone," Vera said, jogging a little up the stairs. There was this sad look in her eyes, almost haunted. "I didn't mean to bother you or anything."

"You weren't!" Wesley called after her. "Hey, you busy?"

Vera turned back. "…no?"

"You like karaoke?"

She pursed her lips. "…no."

"HA," Wesley laughed. "Well, that's not important. C'mon." Wesley jerked his head in the direction of inside, and didn't wait for her to respond, he just followed her inside. He made her wait in the Main Hall while he ran upstairs to throw his cigarettes and lighter back in his room. It was way longer than the time it would take to go get his phone by the time he got back to the kitchens with Vera, but the girls hadn't noticed. They had a whole spread of snacks downstairs, but they broke into the stash of fancy cheese Veyra also discovered and they went ham.

"Hey guys, I found another karaoke partner!" He yelled as he arrived. The nicotine and vodka had finally kicked in, and he could finally relax.

"Oh my god, this cheese is so good," Ophelia gushed loudly. "I love cheese so much."

"Hi Vera," Veyra said.

"Hi Veyra," Vera smiled.

Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh no. Oh no, what have I done? I've been purposely trying to never interact with both of you at the same time."

Piper was giggling like crazy, her cheeks getting red as she made her way through her drink.

"We have nasty ass vodka or…whatever these are," Veyra said, holding out one of her fancy beer things. She turned to Wesley as he drank straight out of the bottle. "Heathen."

Vera took one of the beer things and popped the top. "Didn't you read that article in one of the magazines where they totally mixed up our names?"

"I usually try to avoid reading all that stuff." Wesley leaned over Piper and grabbed some cheese. "I love cheese."

Everyone except Vera was now increasingly tipsy so they decided to venture back to the theater to continue karaoke. The girls insisted they bring the cheese even though they had plenty of snacks waiting downstairs for them, and of course the drinks after another raid of the liquor cabinet. Veyra held the torn open six-pack of her weird beverages of choice and Wesley carried the bottle of vodka that now had permanently lost its cap. Vera had found some random whiskey she said was really good.

Wesley and Piper couldn't stop giggling at everything as they traipsed back through the Main Hall to get to the access to the basement. Still-sober Vera rolled her eyes at them, but it was nice to see a smile on her face for once.

"SHHH!" Ophelia hushed them as loudly as she could. She was pretty buzzed too now, but she was a little less of a disgrace. Veyra stumbled, cursed loudly, and fell down. The remaining three bottles tumbled out of the carton, clattering loudly. Wesley moved past giggling and laughed so loud it was a miracle he managed not to spill his vodka. Unfortunately, it also attracted unwanted attention.

"Is this where all the noise is coming from?" A new voice joined them as the door to the Woman's Room was flung open.

"Oh, hey Darcy," Wesley greeted his least favorite member of the Selected, somewhat sobered by seeing the tiny evil blonde. He usually tried to avoid her at all costs. Eleanor appeared behind her, looking gorgeous, as always. Wesley nodded his head at her. "'Sup, girl."

"We're doing karaoke," Vera explained as Veyra scrambled after her beers on her hands and knees. "They decided to make it a party."

"Can we come?" Eleanor asked hopefully.

"Sure!" Wesley cried. "The more the merrier, right?"

Ophelia bounced up and down on her toes. "Let's go, let's go, guys!" She led the doubled pack of girls down into the basement.

Wesley handed Veyra the last bottle as she struggled to put the others back in the carton. "You total lightweight, getting sloshed on white beers, of all things," he teased.

Veyra shrugged, and then almost knocked him over in her attempt to place a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "No excuses, except secret agents don't get to drink like princes do."

Heat rushed to his cheeks, and it wasn't from drinking. Veyra held his eye contact for a moment and then ran ahead to join the other girls.

Wesley was only a few seconds behind now all six of his dates, but by the time he got back into the theater, Ophelia was already singing _West Side Story._ Vera made herself and the other newcomers some whiskey and Coke from the snack table, and Piper and Veyra were huddled around the snack table. Wesley inhaled some potato chips as Ophelia sang basically opera until there were tears in her eyes and the other girls refueled with snacks and drinks and cheered her on.

"This is fun!" Eleanor said, coming up next to him. "I would have loved to be invited."

Wesley took a sip from his drink to give him a second to think of a response. "Yeah, sorry. I didn't know if you liked karaoke or not."

"Are you sure you haven't been avoiding me? Because if it's something I did-"

"You're here now, aren't you?" Wesley cut her off.

Eleanor's eyes widened as he raised his voice. "Yeah," she said softly, looking away. "Sorry I said anything."

He sighed. "I know it's unfair of me to not pay as much as attention to you, but honestly? Sometimes you act like we're boyfriend and girlfriend and it kind of freaks me out."

Eleanor smiled a little at him, eyes still sad. "Aren't we all your girlfriends?"

"I just meant-"

"No, I get it. I'll back off." She smiled a little more and turned and left the snacks table, joining the other girls at the front of the theater in front of the screen, where his original three dates were now singing more One Direction together. Badly.

Vera was quietly sipping her drink as she watched them. Darcy snorted with laughter at Veyra's attempt to hit a high note.

"They sound terrible," she said to Vera, who was starting to roll her eyes back into her head at this point.

"Darcy, are you even old enough to drink?" Wesley interrupted, joining them. Actually, he didn't know or care if any of the girls were, he just wanted to make Darcy mad. He hated that girl.

She fixed him with a sweet, evil, evil smile and turned her body towards him. "Aw, you're so sweet for actually caring!"

"Are you?"

"Not really, but what are you going to do about it?"

Wesley shook his head as flashed another sickening smile at him. Vera met his eyes and they shared another eye roll.

"You don't have to be so awful all the time," Vera said to Darcy. "It's annoying."

Darcy widened her eyes dramatically. "Wow, shocking! You hate me too! Maybe you should get past all your baggage and stop being so weepy all the time, Vera."

Vera rolled her eyes. "You're such a bitch."

"Hey Darcy," Wesley interrupted loudly. He had had enough of her in all of ten minutes. "You can leave, if you want to!" he strolled over to her and Vera. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be drinking anyway." He held out his hand for her glass.

"Like, leave leave?" For once, Darcy said it without any innuendos.

"I'm not eliminating you yet if that's what you're asking." Wesley took her drink out of her hand without waiting for her to hand it over. "But if you're just going to be mean, you can leave."

"I think I'm going to stay," she replied sweetly.

"I think I'm going to order you to leave," Wesley said, taking a drink out of hers. "That's what I'm going to do about it."

Darcy opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She only furrowed her eyebrows and stomped her foot angrily. She huffed an angry sigh and stormed out. No one else even noticed.

"Finally," Vera said as the door slammed behind Darcy.

"Good riddance," Wesley toasted with her, and they both drank. "Shall we?"

They joined the other girls. Eleanor was singing an Ed Sheeran song fairly nicely. Veyra and Ophelia were both dancing crazily to the slow song, standing on the chairs. Piper was sprawled out on another, still drunk giggling. Eleanor finished and did a cute little ballet curtsey thing and they all loudly cheered and applauded her. Drunk Ophelia was a karaoke fiend and insisted on going next, singing "All I Want for Christmas Is You". She did a fantastic job, backed up by Veyra and Wesley's ridiculous choreography.

"You got some PIPES," Wesley shouted as she took an enthusiastic bow.

"You got some MOVES," she matched his energy. She sat down with a dramatic flop on one of the spare chairs and smirked at him. "You almost out-danced Vey."

Veyra turned to Wesley and gave him a poke in the side. "Almost," she grinned. She took the microphone next and belted out "Where the Streets Have No Name" with wild abandon. Vera was tipsy enough to sing a couple of Taylor Swift songs with Piper, and Wesley insisted on joining their duet for "Shake It Off", because, news-flash, he knew every line of every Taylor Swift song but only wanted to admit that he knew that one, but as the night wore on the secret started to get out.

Veyra got on a Fleetwood Mac kick, Ophelia sang songs from musicals, and even Piper got drunk enough to sing country songs by herself. Eleanor wasn't drinking as much as the others, but Eleanor liked to duet with the other girls and sing soft pop songs. Surprisingly, she wasn't being clingy with Wesley. In fact, she barely talked to him at all, she mostly just hung out with the other girls. Vera didn't sing much, just watched and cheered for everyone, but she jumped in every now and then to sing a jam.

Wesley made a complete fool of himself, singing every song he could think of. The girls kept making him sing with them, so he sung "Landslide" with Veyra, but they both ended up crying. He didn't know many of the musical songs Ophelia was singing so they sang some more Disney songs together that he knew. They would not relent until he and Piper sang "Before He Cheats", though Wesley was the backbone of the performance because Piper couldn't stop giggling. All the girls sang "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" and Wesley recorded the whole thing on Ophelia's phone at her insistence.

Around two in the morning, Ophelia with her goddess vocal cords was the only one who wasn't too hoarse to sing "I Dreamed a Dream" and they were all drunk enough to cry. Wesley passed out on one of the chairs after that. He had a fleeting memory of the girls singing "Don't Stop Believing" together, and then one of Veyra and Ophelia crying along to what he thought were Dolly Parton songs.

He woke up around five, crunched painfully in one of the chairs, his empty vodka bottle cradled next to him. All the girls had left, though none of them were nice enough to wake him up. For once, it wasn't nightmares that had woken him, just his leg falling asleep. He sat up and jiggled his leg, wincing. He checked his phone. Ophelia sent a couple of the videos she had taken, and Veyra sent him a selfie of all five of his karaoke buddies having a sleepover in someone's room with the text, with the text _you're not invited bitch._ There were a few more indecipherable drunk texts too.

Wesley rubbed his eyes and left a note on the only thing he could find to write with—a sharpie to write names on drinks on a red solo cup—that they would clean up the room, even though the staff would probably clean it up anyway. He somehow managed to get to his room and passed out diagonally on his bed, not even able to get his shoes off. His last thought was that Georgia was probably having her morning cigarette right about now.

He woke up at noon with a massive hangover and discovered "BITCH" written across his forehead that he hadn't noticed before.

All things considered, not a bad date at all.


	24. But I'm Still Trying To Find It

**SIS BEEN PROCRASTINATING. Burned myself out writing the last chapters and wrote a nice chunk of this after getting my wisdom teeth out so it's not by best work but this chapter legit beat me up in an alley, but it's finally doneeeeee!**

Epiccupcake28, Virtue01, ladyanj, Runawaygirl8125, delovlies, Nameless, mnbvcxz-xx **thank you for your reviews as always! I know I've been ignoring a few of the characters but I promise I have stuff planned if I can ever get to it!**

 **SORRY NOT SORRY FOR THE FLUFF FROM OLD S.T CHARACTERS I LOVE THEM TOO MUCH AND IT IS A SEQUEL SOOO**

…

Lissa was caught somewhere in between regret and being content tonight, but she had yet to make up her mind. She stared down at her phone as she waited for her boyfriend to come back with their dinner.

 _You still coming tonight?_ Gracie had texted her.

Her fingers hovered over the keys, and she deleted a couple of replies. _No, sorry girl._ She texted Gracie. _Date night with the bf._

Okay, so maybe she had been avoiding Joseph for the two weeks in the girlfriend sense, but it was finally time to try again. She had been pretty busy with work and Joseph's schedule had changed, so she had some good excuses to avoid hanging out with him. Ever since she had caved to watching the Report with him and the rest of the staff, she just felt that their relationship needed a short break. Right now, she could have been hanging out with Gracie and all the local former girls of Ethan's Selection in one of Nat's parties she threw every now and then. But her conscience had been nagging her to go out with Joseph, so here she was in a trendy gourmet fast food place downtown with him.

Speaking of which, Joseph appeared out of the queue with a tray of food, and set it down in front of her, and then sat down across from her.

"Aw, thanks so much!" She said as she hit send on the reply to Gracie.

"You wanted regular coke, right?" Joseph said, pulling her attention off her phone.

Lissa set her phone down on the table and turned it off. "Yeah, you're so sweet to get it for me."

Joseph dug into his salad. "I don't understand how you can drink that shit. There's so much sugar, it's got to be bad for you."

Lissa shrugged as she drizzled a copious amount of ketchup over her fries. "It tastes good, and I don't really care."

Over the table, he reached for her hand that wasn't occupied with eating fries.

"I'm glad we're finally hanging out," Joseph said, looking at her. "I miss you, cutie."

Lissa pushed all thoughts of whatever else she could be doing and focused on Joseph. "Yeah, me too."

She _had_ missed his dimples, but maybe the avoiding him hadn't been the best idea, because things were a little weird now.

Her phone buzzed next to her with a bunch of crying gifs from Gracie.

Lissa didn't bother replying as she reached for her drink. "This place is cute," she commented, looking around.

"Yeah, the food's not great," Joseph shrugged and went back to his salad. "So how you been, anyway?"

Now that she had eaten half of her fries, Lissa reached for the sack that their food had come in and found the box of chicken nuggets he had told Joseph to order from her. She opened the box and inhaled deeply. "Suddenly so much better now," she sighed.

"You and your nuggets," he shook his head and grinned at her. "So lame."

Lissa ignored his teasing. "Chicken nuggets are the best food in the world, okay."

He shrugged. "The ones here aren't that good."

Lissa's phone buzzed again, this time it was Nat responding to Gracie's announcement in the group chat that Lissa was baling on them for her boyfriend.

 _BITCH GET YOUR FORMER SELECTED ASS OVER HERE NOW._

Lissa smiled as she read it and laughed a little.

Joseph stabbed his salad with a little more force than necessary and heaved a theatrical sigh loud enough to make Lissa look up.

"You good?"

"Yeah…it's just I feel like you've been on your phone since we left work. I just left mine in the car, it's so nice to not have to be attached to it all the time."

Lissa looked down at the table as she made a pile of ketchup for her chicken nuggets and resisted the urge to sigh equally theatrically. "Sorry, there's this thing I told Gracie I would go to tonight."

"Ugh, of course," Joseph said. "I hate that she's always guilting you into hanging out with her."

Lissa paused in mid-bite of her chicken nuggets. "Um…she's not." He didn't seem mad, in fact, it was almost like he was teasing her.

"You need to learn how to stand up for yourself if you don't want to hang out with her," he continued. "I know she thinks she's hot shit because every now and then the paparazzi ask her about Princess Nicole, but seriously, gal you don't have to hang out with her if you don't want to."

"I do want to hang out with her, though." Lissa put down her nugget, though her boyfriend didn't even look up from his food. With a sinking feeling, she realized he hadn't even been listening to her.

"And I probably should," Lissa continued slowly as she leaned back in her seat. "I told her I would come before I made this date with you, and then I went back on my promise. I feel bad."

Joseph rolled his eyes, and then went back to his salad. "It's not going back on your promise if you never wanted to go in the first place. But hey, I forgot to tell you, we're doing something when we're off work tomorrow."

Lissa pressed her lips together. "Okayyyy…" she said, awkwardly fiddling with her fries as she debated whether to keep eating them. She cleared her throat. "But… I did want to go to this thing with Gracie tonight."

"Well, maybe not tomorrow. I'm getting off work late, even though it's just going to be hanging around for Prince Wesley to ask me to get him a pack of cigarettes." He shook his head, still not looking up. "Little asshole. Doesn't he know smoking is bad for you?"

Lissa put her uneaten chicken nugget back in the box with the others and put the box back in the bag it had come in and tossed the ketchupped fries in behind them. "Um, okay, you know what? I've gotta run." She grabbed her purse and tucked her phone in her back pocket of her jeans as she stood.

Joseph finally looked up at her, and maybe he finally listened to her too. "What?"

"I'll see you," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "Just text me whenever you're free."

"Where are you going, babe? We just got here, you barely even ate any-"

"I told you," Lissa grabbed her drink and her food, and paused by the edge of the table. "It's not my fault you weren't listening. I'm sorry Joseph, but I really want to hang out with Gracie."

"But-"

Lissa managed a smile. "Thanks for dinner. And text me, okay? We'll hang out tomorrow."

She didn't wait for a reply as she turned around and marched out of the restaurant. Yeah, it was a jerk move to leave him alone, but there was this tiny part of her that was happier than she had been in a long time. She still couldn't decide if it was regret or being content though. She put on her sunglasses and texted Gracie that she was coming over.

Gracie met her by her car in the parking lot outside of her apartment complex, which wasn't too far from the restaurant.

"What are you doing here, girl?" Gracie squealed as Lissa walked up, closing the trunk of her car. "I thought you were on a date!"

"I was," Lissa said. She held up her phone to Gracie, that was opened on the group chat where Adele and Nicole were sending death threats if she didn't show up. "But this is more important!"

Gracie tipped down her sunglasses to shoot Lissa a Skeptical Best Friend Look. "And Joseph was okay with it?"

"Not really," Lissa swung her arms out in a shrug. "But to be honest, I don't really care. He'll be fine."

"Look at you!" Gracie punched her lightly on the arm, "Being all independent and slaying! I support you."

"Oh, shut up. I'm just hanging out with you and everyone else. That's not really independence. Let's go."

The girls jumped into Gracie's silver Jeep, and Gracie rolled the windows down and put on some music through her phone. The setting sun turned the city golden and hazy, and Lissa couldn't help smiling as they rolled through Angeles traffic, screaming along to Taylor Swift at the top of their lungs. It was warm for the lateness in the year, and there seemed to be more people out than usual. Most of the regret was gone now. And she was far happier than just being content. Before long, they left downtown behind and headed up on the curving roads that led towards the palace. Gracie rolled in the entrance, and the guards knew her car, so after quickly verifying her identity, the gates opened, and they drove in.

"It's so weird coming and going. I wish I had a car," Lissa sighed as Gracie parked and they got out of the car.

"Hey, my lady-in-waiting career pays well," Gracie brushed her sunglasses to the top of her blonde head. "I'm so glad you're coming. I love having you back. I was always kind of the odd one out at these gatherings. I love everyone else, but they're all so…"

"Grown up?" Lissa suggested. Gracie nodded. "I feel you. It's because they're married now."

"Elvira's not," Gracie reminded her. "But she's also like a five-star commander or whatever. I always forget."

Lissa followed Gracie into the palace, catching sight of a few of the Selected hanging out in the Woman's Room. She felt oddly underdressed without her usual business wear in her casual red sundress and sandals, even though the dress code was definitely far more relaxed than it had been in her day as one of them. Gracie didn't even bat an eyelash in her shorts and pink plaid over a white t-shirt, but they still got some weird glances from the current Selected. Lady Eleanor followed them with her eyes as they walked past the Woman's Room, and Lissa remembered being confronted by her about coming out of the Woman's Room after that whole Debacle ™.

They met the rest of the former Selected out the back in the palace gardens in a secluded area, where they had a beautiful set up of a table, chairs and some fairy lights. Nat and Adele had already cracked open the red wine and were eating fancy cheese. Nicole was sitting with her feet up on another chair, in red lipstick with a white t-shirt and jeans, holding her barely-starting-to-show baby bump with one arm. As arguably some of the most famous women in the country, it was funny to see the princess, her sister, and the First Lady, so relaxed and carefree. Flashbacks to her days as their fellow comrade came back to her in multitudes, and Lissa smiled. Back then, she never would have thought this is where they would all end up.

"YOU'RE HERE!" Nat screeched at what was not an acceptable volume.

Gracie bounded down into the little party area to give her obligatory hello hugs. "She even ditched Joseph for us. Where's Elvs?"

"In a meeting," Nicole said, eating another cube of cheese. "I freaking love cheese."

Adele, the resident wine mom, got up to get wine for the newcomers. "She'll be here soon, and same some cheese for her!"

"Hey, the lady is pregnant. You don't limit her cheese intake." Gracie teased, sitting down on Nicole's legs and then immediately being booted off.

"Did you seriously ditch your boyfriend for us? Lissa, why did Ethan eliminate you like right after he put you into the Elite? I'm going to fight him, Nic."

"Please don't," Nicole said, leaning back in her chair.

"Probably because I was like barely sixteen?" Lissa said, laughing. "And anyway, wasn't Elvira the one to go after me?"

"Yeah," a tipsy Nat shrugged. "But she's like, a bad bitch. Saving the world and shit."

With perfect timing, Elvira walked up to where their little gathering was.

"Hey, what did I miss?" she said as she approached.

"HERE SHE COMES!" Nat yelled, not bothering to stand up. "YOU'RE LATE!"

"I had a meeting?" Elvira reminded them, trying really hard not to smile. She sat down next to Nat and elbowed her. "Ben says hi."

Nat held up her glass in a mock toast. "Touche."

"What does that even mean?" Nicole asked her sister. Nat shrugged, and there was a collective but still loving eye roll before they went back to the original topic of conversation.

"But seriously, compared to Wesley's Selection, Ethan's was WILD," Adele handed Lissa a glass of wine, and then her eyes widened, and she gasped as she realized what she said. "Oops."

The other girls all exchanged Looks That Meant Something.

"Adele!" Gracie hissed.

Lissa looked around the group. "What?"

She knew some of what happened during Ethan's Selection after she and some of the others had been eliminated and it as it coincided with the beginning of the rebellion that culminated in the civil war, it wasn't good. At all.

"I know, I totally dodged a bullet…uh, literally…by getting out early," she stammered. "I-"

"Oh yeah…" Adele said, nodding. An awkward silence fell over the group. "Well actually, I meant oops for bringing up Wesley."

"Wait, what? Why is that an oops?" Lissa asked.

"Because we have an unspoken rule not to mention Wesley around you," Elvira pointed out.

Oh.

OH.

Lissa jumped up. "GUYS!" She shrieked, clapping her hands over her cheeks. "There is no reason to not mention Wesley around me, okay? NOTHING is going on with us anymore, that was like five years ago. So, can we please drop it? Like I have a boyfriend now and he has a Selection and we're friends okay?"

Nat snorted, sending the wine in her glass slopping dangerously over the rim. "Ooookaaayy, yeah sure, Lissa. You look so cute when you're blushing."

"You _did_ just ditch your boyfriend to come hang out with us. Here at the palace. Where Wesley is," Gracie pointed out.

"I also work here and live here," Lissa sat down and crossed her arms over her chest. "And me and Joseph…well that has nothing to do with this."

"And what would _this_ be?" Nicole asked, grinning.

"You guys are impossible," Lissa shook her head.

Adele finally steered the conversation away. Slightly. "Speaking of Wesley, what's on his schedule right now?"

"This was _supposed_ to be a meeting," Nat said. "But he decided he was throwing another date party since his karaoke one was so much fun, so I made this a party for us instead."

"Nice!" Elvira high-fived Nat. "Good idea!"

Lissa knew she wasn't technically a Selection coordinator, so she offhandedly listened as the other girls started to discuss it all. Eventually as the sun set and the gardens settled into darkness illuminated by the fairy lights, the conversation moved to better things, like their own Selection and everything that had gone down.

"Remember when they put us all on teams and made us bake cupcakes as a competition?" Gracie asked. "That was weird."

"I remember you cried," Adele said. "You were on my team and we lost because Mackenzie threw one of the cupcakes."

"I thought my team lost," Nat said. "I threw cupcakes too."

"Yeah, but you just did that to be stupid. You made the biggest mess," Nicole teased her.

"My team won that one," Elvira reminded them. "It was possibly one of the strangest things I have ever done."

"I honestly forgot about that," Lissa said. "You all should make these girls do it too. It's only fair." Again, there was the feeling of being an outsider. She had never been jealous of the other girls back then, except for maybe how confident they were. Most of her time in Ethan's Selection had been spent sneaking around to Wesley or trying to convince herself otherwise. She smiled, remembering. It was different now, then what she had imagined back then. But it was still good.

"I'd like to see how that will go down!" Nat laughed hysterically.

"Wesley's almost to the Elite, so we'd have to do it soon or just have less teams. We were all so jealous of each other back then," Adele shook her head. "I can't believe how everything ended up."

"Ugh, thankfully," Elvira said, sipping her wine. "I seriously thought y'all would murder each other sometimes. And Ethan was so shy back then, I can't believe he got married at all."

"Speaking of you, how did your date with that one guy go?" Nicole asked Elvira. "The one you met on Tinder."

Elvira groaned and they all goaded her on for details.

"Well," Elvira cleared her throat for maximum dramatics. "He was cute, I'll give him that. He took me to that fancy club downtown, but he was so boring and arrogant. It was quite possibly the worst date I've ever been on. Except for maybe the first date I went on with Ethan."

Everyone laughed and toasted to their horrible first dates all those years ago, something they all had in common.

"I think I'm happy being single," Elvira said as Adele refilled everyone's wine. "It's nice to get out every now and then, but honestly, I'm happy. Nicole and Adele, you guys all have cute kids if I ever want to see any anyway."

Gracie and Nat high-fived each other in their kid-less state and Adele and Nicole immediately started talking all things mom-related.

"If you're happy, we're happy," Gracie looped her arm around Elvira's neck and smashed their cheeks together in the world's most annoying hug.

"I can't believe you're the only one who's still single," Lissa said. "I remember being so scared of you at first."

"I was just jealous and awful," Gracie laughed. "I was trying so hard to Ethan to like me and I hated it when he paid attention to you guys."

"I think we all felt that way," Adele reminded her. "It was hard. I was so nasty to everyone."

"I won," Nicole reminded them, grinning. Her face glowed with radiance in the soft lights that hung around them. "It was worth it."

Tipsy Gracie started bawling and hugging her. "I'm so happy you won!"

She hugged everyone else and happy cried some more, Nicole joining in and blaming her pregnancy hormones. They shared memories on and on into the night. They ate pizza and ice cream and drank wine and gossiped about what the girls from their Selection were up to and the new ones in Wesley's. They took selfies and got emotional over silly things and helped Elvira troll some thirsty boys on Tinder. When the food was gone and Ethan and Colin were texting their wives about their kids, they all said their goodbyes.

Gracie had too much wine and passed out, but thankfully Damian was also the Prime Minister's head of security, so he got his girlfriend home when he came to pick up Adele. Elvira got one of the guards to drive her car back to her apartment. Lissa helped Nat and Nicole clean up and then walked back to the palace with the twins.

"Bye babe," Nicole said when they hugged again on the third floor. "I'm glad you came tonight. I love having you here. If this whole governess thing doesn't work out, come be my lady-in-waiting, okay?"

Lissa squeezed her friend tighter before they pulled away. Nicole was getting misty-eyed again.

"I love my job too much, but thanks. It means a lot."

Nat hugged her again too. "You're a gem, Lissa. Don't let those boys mistreat you, okay? You deserve the world."

Lissa nodded. "I know. Thanks, Nat. I'll see you guys tomorrow at some point."

She left them on the third floor together and headed up to her room on the fourth floor. It was almost midnight, so no one was really out in the palace. She knew somewhere in the palace Wesley was partying it up with some of the Selected, but she had no idea where and frankly, she didn't really care. All she wanted to do tonight was light her candles, take a long bath and do a face mask and start that book she'd been meaning to read for weeks. The only person she didn't want to see was Joseph.

As she stopped at her door, the first thing she saw was a huge bouquet of pink peonies and tiny white roses perched on the floor in front of it. There was a bag from McDonald's and a giant chocolate bar there too. Lissa stood there for a second, heart thudding.

Those were for her!

There was a warm feeling in her chest. It spread to her face and she pressed her hands against her cheeks to stop the blushing, but it didn't do anything to stop the smile splitting her face.

She picked up the gifts and unlocked her door and stepped inside. A note fell out of the flowers.

 _Sorry for being the worst boyfriend ever :/. Hope this makes up me making you miss dinner. I know flowers won't fix me always messing up, but I promise I'm going to try harder because you deserve so much better and I just want to do ridiculous cutesy shit with you all the time. See you around, gorgeous. -Joseph._

It was milk chocolate, not as good as dark, but it was still chocolate. There was an order of chicken nuggets and fries in the bag, and even though they were cold, and she didn't have any ketchup, Lissa scarfed down some fries. She flopped on her bed after kicking off her shoes and squealed into her pillows. She read and reread the note over and over again and couldn't stop smiling. She texted Gracie pics and all caps screaming, but of course, didn't get a reply because her friend was probably still conked out. She tried several times to text Joseph a thank you, but nothing sounded right.

After a few tries, she set her phone down next to her o her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She pressed her hands to her face again and squeezed her eyes shut. That happiness was bubbling up in her chest and she couldn't stop smiling. No one had ever given her flowers and that alone was just the sweetest thing in the world.

Lissa remembered standing up and leaving him alone fifteen minutes into their date, and some of the happiness turned sour in her stomach. She'd been so pissed about Joseph not listening to her that she hadn't really even listened to _him_. She had avoided him for two weeks and then left with hardly any explanation after he bought her dinner. Total bitch move.

She grabbed her phone and opened her messages.

 _You're literally the sweetest. THANK YOU!_ She added the little heart eyes smiley. _So sorry I ditched you, that was not cool.I'll make it up to you, promise. See you tomorrow?_

Lissa took a deep breath, and tossed her phone on the bed, not waiting for a reply. She didn't really want to live with the consequences of her actions right now. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to get back to the glowing joy the evening had brought and got ready for bed.


	25. One More Day To Stay

It was only later, in the quiet of the night, when she first wished things were different. She wasn't exactly sure when. She just knew at some point that night, part of her longed for a change.

Lissa didn't know what woke her. One minute she was dead asleep, the next she was halfway out of bed, her blood charge screaming in her ears, heart slamming in her chest. It was a truly terrifying way to wake up. And there wasn't even time for her to recover because a moment after the initial book that shook the walls of the palace, the glass in her windows, and her very core, the alarm went off. Her room was already dark, but she saw the hallway go dark, along with the light in her bathroom, and the lights in the gardens beyond her curtained windows. Even her phone still plugged into her charger, went dead before she even saw what time if it was.

All she knew was she had to get out.

Lissa pulled herself together long enough to throw on some clothes over her pajamas and a pair of sneakers, but her hands were shaking so bad she could hardly tie the laces. The hall was dark, and the screaming alarm was only louder out here. The dark was pierced only by the flashing silvery light on the smoke alarms that she'd never really paid attention to before. There was no one else around as she ran down to the third floor, where she had stood only a few hours earlier with Nat and Nicole. There were a few more servants and guards down here, but Lissa didn't stop to observe the general mayhem, she just ran to the nursery.

Her pulse pounded in her ears and somehow her brain was scared enough to make her terrified body move. The faster the better.

The war was supposed to be over.

Queen Christine was already there, holding Aidan on one hip and trying to get the girl's shoes on. All three kids were crying. There were two guards also, urging the queen to get out of there. Lissa immediately jumped in to help, getting Evie's shoes on and grabbing their fluffy pink robes.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Christine was in pajamas too, looking like a regular mom and not a queen in her hoodie and leggings. "The guards took Andrew away so fast," she said, face drawn.

"Mommy, what's going on?" Sophie blubbered, barely letting go of Christine's arm.

"Your Majesty, we need to get you to the safe rooms immediately," one of the guards said.

"It's going to be alright, honey," Christine said, standing up and switching Aidan to the other side. "We're going to go be with Daddy in just a few minutes, but we have to be quiet first, okay?"

Lissa was surprised how quickly the kids crying turned into tearful sniffling. Sophie wouldn't let go of her mom, who was already carrying Aidan, but Evie seemed to understand more what was going on and just clung to Lissa's hand with all her six-year-old might. They followed the guards out of the nursery and then the second guard fell behind the small group. In her previous time at the palace, the safe rooms hadn't been installed until several months into Ethan's Selection, and the one time she had used them there had been only minimal access points. She didn't even know where they all were this time for security reasons.

About halfway down the hall, the guards took them into a small windowed nook parlor, which contained a hidden door right where the room dipped off from the hall. There was a narrow stone staircase, dimly lit by grayish light on the gray concrete walls. Christine, Lissa, and the kids followed the guards into the stairwell, and the doors boomed shut behind them, plunging the staircase into sudden silence. It left Lissa's ears ringing for several more minutes. They went down several flights of stairs, and somehow that quiet was almost scarier than the chaos of the alarms.

Finally, the stairs ended, and they were left with just a long hallway, more gray concrete. There were more guards down here, and other security looking people in black uniforms instead of red, even a few servants. There were several rooms and doors, but they passed lots of them. Finally, they stopped at one, and the first guard swiped a keycard, and the door opened.

She'd been here before, Lissa realized, remembering. During Ethan's Selection, once they had come back from a vacation at Trentworth, a mob of rebels had attacked the palace. She'd been so stupid back then, running back into danger to get to Wesley and only barely making it down here in time. She hadn't saved him, she just had to be with him back then.

Well, he wasn't here now. A quick scan of the room showed her that.

Christine and the kids ran to where Andrew was, conferring with some important looking guards and security people. The king stepped away and was mobbed by his little family, with the girls around his legs and Christine almost crushing Aidan between them as she threw her arms around her husband and he kissed her. Lissa stepped away, making sure to avoid the dowager Queen Francesca, who set in repose in a corner, a long coat over her nightgown. Her face was pale like it was carved from marble and she didn't take her eyes off the door. Lissa knew she was waiting for Wesley, still her baby after twenty-one years, just like she had five years ago when Lissa had last been in this room.

She saw a few of the Selected mixed in with all the various palace people, and just after she and Christine arrived, the guards brought in several more in pajamas and various thrown on clothes. Being back where she had been when she had been one of them was strange. They grouped together, with terrified looked on their faces, never having been through this before. Lissa looked around for Joseph but didn't see him, though she did see a couple of the higher-level staff that were his friends. More and more people kept arriving in the huge room, bunching together in their own groups of staff and whatnot—all giving the royal family plenty of space. Someone even came with the two Shreave dogs. Still no Wesley.

Lissa found Nat and Nicole, holding a somehow still sleeping Jamie, and she was glad that all the others had gone home hours earlier and no one was staying over tonight. Worry was written all over their faces, and both Ethan and Ben were absent, so it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

"You guys okay?" she asked as she joined them.

Nicole managed a smile at her. "Yeah, this is a lot better than the first few times the alarms went off."

"Haven't been in here in a while," Nat said with a grin. "I think the last time was with you, Lissa."

"Yeah, when the mob attacked the palace on the Report."

Nicole tightened her arms around her sleeping son and rolled her lips together. "That was terrifying."

"It doesn't get any less terrifying, does it?" said Nat. The other two shook their heads.

"What's going on?" Lissa asked, hoping that because Nicole was a princess, she might know a little more.

"I don't know. No one's told us anything yet, we're still waiting for everyone to get here," Nicole said. "Ethan should be here by now. He said he would be right behind me."

As if to answer her question, the doors opened up and a large group of people joined them. Ethan and Wesley were first through the doors, followed by the last of the Selected, Veyra, Ophelia, Alyex, and Eleanor. Barring Ethan, the others were all sparkling with a fine sheen of glitter and didn't exactly look like they were sober. The girls were all wearing cocktail dresses and carrying high heels, and Wesley was in a suit, or at least the remains of one. His shirt was unbuttoned over a white t-shirt and his jacket was slung over his shoulder.

Ethan and Nicole met in the middle of the room in a tight hug, with Jamie between them, and they stayed like that for several moments. Queen Francesca went to Wesley and pressed her hands to either side of his face before embracing him.

"Ethan wouldn't go to the safe rooms without Wesley," Nat explained quietly to Lissa. "And that boy was still partying even at three a.m. He-"

Nat didn't finish, because Ben had just come in, along with several more important looking people and Ben was making a beeline over to his wife. She jumped up to greet him and threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her feet off the ground just a little.

Nat pulled away just long enough to speak. "Don't you ever leave like that again. I don't care what was so important, you're an important person now too, remember?"

"Security stuff," Ben explained, giving her cheek a quick kiss. "And you had to go with Nicole, anyway. But hey, I just came to make sure you were okay. We've got to have an emergency Council meeting."

He left them as quickly as he had come and joined the small group of hastily assembled members of the Council, though it was only Ben, Ethan, Wesley, and Andrew. Everyone else was home or at least somewhere else. Lissa hoped that whatever the hell was going on here wasn't going on everywhere.

She watched them as they met with some important looking guard people, trying to figure out what was going on. Wesley stood to the side of the group, she noticed, bouncing his leg up and down as he leaned against the wall. He didn't look like he was paying much attention as he stared sightlessly into the safe room. He kept fiddling with something in his hand, and Lissa saw it was a lighter. None of the Selected were even watching him, they were just focused on themselves and their own personal trauma.

And maybe it was because he looked so scared and so _small_ and helpless. Or how it made her sick to see someone who she had cared about in another life look like that. But whatever it was, it made Lissa mad.

He didn't say anything to the other Council members. He went from leaning against the wall to striding quickly to the doors before anyone had the chance to stop him. The conversation of the others stopped as he abandoned them but resumed after a second. None of the Selected even saw him leave. Even his mother, who was with Christine and the kids, didn't notice. No one saw. No one cared.

Lissa didn't say anything to Nat or Nicole, she just followed him. No one else was going to.

The guards were all too busy with everything else, so she slipped out of the safe rooms into the long hallway that wasn't exactly a safe room but probably was pretty safe, just the same. A few people were outside but farther down, coming in and out of another room, mostly guards and other security personnel. No one close enough to question her or the prince half-hidden in the shadows in between two of lights that illuminated the corridor in pockets

He was struggling with his lighter in one hand, the other trying to hold a cigarette steady at his lips. His hands were shaking, and he couldn't get it to light. As Lissa got closer heard him muttering a long string of curses that was getting more and ridiculous with each word. He finally got the cigarette lit and sucked in a lungful of smoke. He must have heard her footsteps and turned slightly toward her, his eyes open wide.

This was so stupid. There had been absolutely no reason to go after him. The only thing she was doing was making this harder and harder for herself. Too late now.

"Hey," she said softly, in a way that was supposed to sound casual, but given their circumstances, was not at all.

Wesley quickly lowered his hands, stuffing his lighter in one pocket and half-trying to hide his cigarette. He looked down at his shoes and he blew smoke out of his mouth. "Hi."

"Smoking's bad for you, you know."

Wesley nodded, eyes on the ground. "I know. I tried to stop when I got back…" he shrugged. "I hate vapes. They smell disgusting."

Lissa crossed her arms. She didn't know what to do with her hands. "Most people say it's the other way around."

"Yeah, well," he took another drag of smoke. "Vapes always try to be like oh it's okay! You're breathing in cereal! But it's not, it's just dumb juice and it always made me want whatever flavor it was. At least cigarettes don't pretend. I don't know." He looked up at her then, finally. "Please don't tell anyone? No one really knows and I would like to keep it that way. People…tend to think badly of princes who, you know, smoke."

Lissa nodded. "Of course." She actually already knew he smoked. Joseph told her all the time how annoying it was to go run errands for Wesley, and she had smelled it on him the night after the Report he had come to hang out with her, and when they were trapped in the Woman's Room together. He wasn't as sneaky as he thought, trying to cover it up with body spray or aftershave or whatever he used. It smelled nice, though.

"Is it safe to be out here, you think?" Lissa didn't ask him what was going on, though she desperately wanted to. He was watching the doors to the safe rooms and the guards down the hall very carefully.

"I don't know, probably." He ran his hands through his hair and shrugged again. "I just couldn't be in there anymore. I hate that room."

"I know what you mean," Lissa said. "I haven't been there except that one time during Ethan's Selection." Wesley stared at her blankly, so she continued. "Remember? The mob that marched on the gates and interrupted the Report feed?" She didn't mention the part where she ran back to be with him. Kind of like this time too.

"Shit, I forgot about that," he smiled, just a tiny bit at the edges of his mouth. "Damn."

He didn't mention it either. Perhaps he didn't remember.

They were quiet as Wesley smoked. Lissa didn't know what to say or what to do. Wesley leaned against the wall, resting his head against it.

"I thought this was all supposed to be over," he said, very quietly.

"What happened?" she said before she could decide if this was an appropriate time.

"A bomb, apparently. Somewhere between here and the city. As far as I know, it was only one and nothing else really happened, and all this is just a precaution."

"Do you need to get back in there?" Lissa didn't ask if they were all in danger of dying, or who set it off, or if he was even allowed to smoke out here, or if he planned on quitting. She just hoped he wasn't going to ask her why she was out there too. She didn't have an answer to that.

His hands were steady as brought his cigarette to his lips again. "Yeah," he said, accompanied by more smoke. By now, she was sure they would be able to smell it on her too. "But I don't want to."

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and then remembered she was in her PJs and had gone to sleep with wet hair. She had a hair tie, like always, and quickly pulled it into a ponytail. "Me neither. I kinda don't really know anyone in there anymore," she rambled, more embarrassed than ever now. "I mean, I _do_ , but like, I don't. I don't know, sorry," she trailed off, looking at the ground like he had been doing earlier.

"You know me."

"You left."

He finished smoking and put the remains away in a little receptacle she hadn't noticed that was probably well used by the guards. "And we're friends, right?"

Lissa finally worked up the courage to look up again. She smiled. "Right."

"Well, you have me." Wesley smiled back, just a little. It was lopsided and goofy, and his eyes were kind of bloodshot around the edges. But it was nice. "I'll go back in there if you do."

"It's probably safer, anyway," Lissa said. She waited while he tried to rub the smell of smoke off his hands on his pants and dug out a piece of gum out of the depths of his pockets. It didn't look very clean, but he chewed it anyway.

"Hey," he stopped right before they got to the door. "Thanks. For coming out here to see if I was okay. Or maybe you were just lurking, idk. I wasn't doing so hot for a minute there."

"Did you actually just say 'idk'?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

Lissa smiled and rolled her eyes. "Nothing…much." She reached for the door handles.

"No, but seriously. Thank you. It was nice to have a friend, even if you just listened to me rant about vapes. It was better than being alone."

Her hand hesitated for a second on the handles. "Well, like you said. You have me."

No one noticed them much as they came back inside. Well, they noticed Wesley, but not her. The Selected were all sitting in a little group by themselves, some napping and some talking quietly. The royal family, minus the Council, were sitting together as well. Everyone else assembled stood in little groups, there weren't really chairs and places to sit for everyone and it was pretty obvious who was going to get them. Lissa found some of the ladies' maids that she knew and sat down on the floor with them. Wesley made eye contact as he joined his brothers and shot her some nice finger guns.

And maybe that's when she wished things were different.


	26. Sing Your Least Favorite Song

**WHAT IS WRITING WHAT IS PLOTTING WHAT ARE PINTEREST AESTHETICS (update idk so there aren't any so don't check) WHAT ARE TRANSITIONS WHAT IS THIS CHAPTER I DON'T KNOW I EITHER WRITE A TON OR NOT AT ALL.**

 **THANKS FOR ALL THE REVIEWS!**

…

"Wesley. Wesley, I need you to wake up. Now."

Only part of his brain registered that someone was in his room, yelling at him. The other part was still dead asleep.

Something landed on his bed by his legs.

"Wesley Shreave!" the yelling was louder and shriller now. Wesley managed to crack open an eye and force his brain into some semblance of wakefulness. He turned over and sat up slowly.

"What?" he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. It was his mother, standing at the foot of his bed with her arms crossed. She was holding one newspaper folded up like she could hit him with it, and another one was evidently what had been thrown on his bed. "What time is it?"

The clock on his bedside table read 7:23, and he vaguely remembered the all-clear being given in the safer rooms last night somewhere in between four and five. He had gone outside to have a proper smoke, once again encountering Georgia, who had been chattier than usual. He must have gone to bed afterward, but he didn't really remember. Now his mouth tasted like nasty cigarette and he was still in his clothes from the party and the subsequent safe rooms, so obviously he hadn't showered or changed or even brushed his teeth. Gross.

"It's time for you to answer some questions," Queen Francesca demanded. She looked as tired as he felt, probably even more. She was wearing her usually finery, refusing to dress down even after such a crazy night. Her eyebrows were almost in her hairline and her lips remained in a hard line.

Wesley groaned, feeling a bit like a teenager when he used to refuse to get up for his lessons. He resisted the urge to flop backward into his pillows and instead picked up the newspaper that probably had something to do with all this. For once, he had been awakened by someone instead of by nightmares or panicking or whatever, so that was nice. It was not nice after like two hours of sleep.

Okay, so maybe this was a good reason.

The headline read "THE PRINCE'S PARTIES" and there were way too many pictures of him and mostly him drunk out of his mind at the four parties he'd thrown with some of his Selected the last week. There was the karaoke from the first one, including one of him passed the hell out in the theater and drunk dancing in his underwear and glitter. He skimmed over the accompanying text, which called him irresponsible and "not taking this seriously" and "taking advantage of the situation" and playing favorites, among other things.

"How did they get these?" Wesley asked, his voice squeaking up a tiny bit. Sweat broke out under his clothes, hot and uncomfortable.

"You tell me. You said you were doing karaoke and video games!"

"We were!" Wesley stood up, and the blood rushed to his head and he sat back down. His heart was pounding, and he could feel it in his head. That was from no sleep, drinking last night, or probably a combination of everything. "They might have…gotten out of hand."

So, technically, he was still on his drinking ban, and officially, his parties all had really good cover stories and somehow no one had said anything. It was mostly Veyra and Ophelia who were the party girls, and they were the only girls in the pictures. He mixed it up every time with the other girls who accepted his invitation, but as the newspaper now proclaimed, nothing good had come from any of this.

Just when things were finally starting to be okay again.

"Look, Mom, it's not that big of a deal. I'm an adult, I'm allowed to drink and have parties, right? They are taking this-"

His mom cut him off, holding out the other newspaper. "It's not just that, Wesley. The news of the bomb scare is getting out, and none of that is good. We look weak. The Berlin family is outing us in Atlin and calling for Fallon to resign. Lady Valette has already asked to leave this morning. She says it's not safe anymore. On top of that, someone leaked these photos and the media is a mess."

Great. Another girl wanted to leave. And more trouble from up north. Wesley put his head in hands, and slowly inhaled throw his nose, trying to calm down. But if he closed his eyes he could be back in the safe room. Stuck. Trapped. Too many people, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Not again.

"Um, okay. That's not good. That's not good at all." Wesley opened his eyes as he lowered his hands from his face. They were shaking again. He stuffed them into his pockets, finding his lighter in the right one and wrapping his hand around it. His lungs were refusing to work now, somewhere near his heart that wouldn't stop pounding. Damn, he'd only been smoking for a few weeks and his lungs were already broken.

But it wasn't that. Not again, please.

"Not good? This is beyond not good, Wesley," Queen Francesca was getting into shouting territory. "Your Selection was supposed to heal the country, but all these scandals are distracting from any of the good things you do and making people hate the monarchy again. You-"

"Mom-" Wesley interrupted, already knowing there was no stopping his mom on a tirade. He tried to take a deep breath, but there wasn't enough air in the room. "It's just a Selection-"

"No, I don't want to hear it, Wesley. you don't focus on the girls unless it's a party. You're not even taking it seriously, and any time there is some tiny good thing the press covers there's always something worse and worse. It's going to cost us sooner or later."

She kept talking, but he didn't really hear it…

He was so cold.

He saw them coming, shadowy figures blurred in the mist. He could see they were carrying guns, and there were a lot of them, but they were still too far away to distinguish anything else.

Running.

He was up and moving again before he even realized it. In the back of his mind, he remembered something called the Fight or Flight response, and because he was running, that must make him a coward.

But he kept running.

The shouts were getting louder, and suddenly he realized how much of an idiot he was, of course, they could see him. There was too much snow and the sky was the same color and he had no idea where he was and the air stabbed his lungs and tasted like burning jet fuel and there was too much snow and he couldn't see and they were coming they were coming they were coming…

"Wesley, are you even listening to me?"

His mother's voice pierced through the memories, and Wesley stood up from his bed. Half of his brain was telling him to calm the hell down and that it was all okay. The other half was not. And that was the half he listened to.

"What is wrong with you?" her voice softened just a little and came down a pitch. "Where are you going?"

"I can't," he pushed past her blocking the path from his bed to the hall that led to the door out of his suite. "Please." His breathing and his voice were coming in stupid gasps and he cringed at the sound of it.

His mother caught his arm, stopping his flight. "Wesley!" she sounded more alarmed now. "Are you okay?"

"No!" He was shaking his head, his brain screaming for him to get out of here, go outside. A cigarette. Yeah, that might help. But if his mom found out about that he was dead. "Let me go!" he tried to shake her off but he was breathing so fast he couldn't get the air out of his lungs and he couldn't get it _in_ his lungs either and his arm didn't want to respond and shit shit shit shit he was going to die…

White-hot pain lurched through his body. There wasn't cold anymore. His leg was on fire. He kept running, or at least he tried, but he collapsed in the snow.

Drake's blood, all over his coat. Blood all over the snow, his blood. He remembered blood all over her dress. It had been pink, the perfect gown for their birthday party. His blood.

He tried to get up, tried to keep running because they were coming.

"Come on," he murmured to no one but his stupid brain.

His stupid leg refused to do anything other than bleed and hurt and hurt. He got it halfway underneath him and himself halfway off the ground, but he couldn't do it, he just couldn't do it. He cried out in pain and fell back into the pinkish snow. There were stupid tears leaking out of his eyes, hot on his cold skin. Stupid. Coward.

In a moment of brilliance, he reached for the radio that should have been clipped on his belt, but it was gone, replaced with frozen blood. He didn't know if it was his or Drake's anymore.

No one was coming. No one except for them. But they weren't going to save him.

They were going to kill him. And they were going to make it hurt…

The next thing he knew, when the panic finally left him, he was sitting on the ground at the foot of his bed. His mom's arms are around him as she kneeled in front of him and he was holding onto her so tightly his own arms ached. His face was pressed into the crook of her neck and shoulder, and the fabric was wet. Probably stupid tears. Probably his. She was stroking his hair, and his heart was finally slowing down. He could breathe again.

He was safe.

"I swear I'm going crazy." It was the first thing out of his mouth as he sat up and it came out all in a rush of after-crying voice. He wiped his nose. "I'm sorry Mom."

"Wesley, darling, are you okay?" she kept saying things like that over and over again and patting him on the arms like she was trying to see if he was broken or something. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know," he stammered, patting his pockets to make sure his lighter hadn't fallen out. Nope, just his sanity. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Mom."

She pulled him to her again and kissed the top of his head. It was nice, sort of. But it also sort of made him feel like he was back north, trying to hide in the snow in a dark uniform with no idea where he was.

"No, honey, I'm sorry," she smiled softly, something he didn't usually see her do. "I shouldn't have been yelling at you like that. I didn't know. I thought you were okay." She hugged him tighter.

"Mom, I'm fine," Wesley said, pulling away before he got too claustrophobic. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!" she said. "I've never seen you like that. Something's wrong with you."

"There's nothing _wrong_ with me," Wesley leaned against the side of his bed. "It's just because of last night. I hate the safe rooms, and I didn't get any sleep, okay?" He tried to laugh a little to make her feel better, and the words kept tumbling out of him. "I'm probably still drunk or something. You saw the pictures, didn't you? That's the problem. It's nothing."

Queen Francesca reached for his hands. "I'm making you an appointment with the doctor today. You need to see someone about this."

"About what? There's nothing going on, Mom! I just..." He didn't know why he didn't want to tell her. He just didn't. She'd already seen him at his worst, having a panic attack and crying and freaking out or whatever it was he did these days.

"You scared me, Wesley. That wasn't nothing."

He pulled away from her and stood up and turned away. He ran his hands through his unruly hair. "Mom. I'm fine, okay? Just leave me alone."

She stood up behind him. "How long has this been happening?"

"Nothing's happening, okay? I-"

"How long, Wesley?" his mother demanded, and this time he knew he couldn't just blow it off anymore. He sagged against the wall and turned back to her.

"I guess…since we got back. But really, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Since you got back from where?"

He shrugged "North."

Queen Francesca crossed her arms and scowled as she stalked across the room. "I knew I should have never agreed to let you go. I knew it."

Wesley looked away. He had never really told his family about anything that happened during his time in the army except the most basic of details. He wasn't about to start now. But this was different.

"No," he shook his head. "Not the army. Mitch Levi, when he took us to Yukon. When he killed Dad and he was going to kill us. That's when it started."

He didn't say what he was really thinking, that all the rest of them hadn't been messed up by that like he had. Sure, he'd only been sixteen. But Ethan had suffered far more than he had, and as far as Wesley knew, his brother was fine. Wesley had tried to live a somewhat normal life when it was all over, but he had been so restless that the war seemed to be a great idea. Yeah…no. It had only made everything so much worse.

His mother stared at him, her forehead crinkled and her eyes soft. She didn't say anything, just walked to him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Wesley tried to relax as he hugged her back, but it was hard.

When she finally let him go, she stepped back and took his hands. "We're going to get through this, Wesley. You're going to be okay."

He hoped she was right.

It took a few hours for him to calm down. After his mom left with the unfortunate promise that she would make sure he talked to the palace doctor about getting some therapy. According to her, it would fix him all up good as new-not her exact words but they might as well have been. And yet, Wesley couldn't remember ever feeling so broken as he did that morning.

Exhausted as he was, he could not get back to sleep and spent a while on his balcony smoking. When he had calmed down enough, he headed to his office to brew some coffee, something he always insisted on doing himself. He definitely drank too much and soon he was jittery and hyper _and_ sleep deprived. But on the bright side, with all that extra time and energy, he managed to locate his phone and get it charging, clean out his emails, and get his office and paperwork all sorted. He thought about going down for breakfast with the family or with the girls since, for the sake of the kids, they ate separately except for dinner, but he felt queasy and hungover, though it hit differently today. He went for a run around the palace but puked halfway through, so he didn't even make it to the gym for his actual workout.

He showered but still felt like shit. He forced himself to go to the Council meeting about the bomb scare, even though he could easily use the Selection as an excuse. They did have good coffee in the meeting room. Ethan brought him a Gatorade and made everyone keep him away from the coffee because he was a jerk, but whatever. It was close enough to lunchtime that there were sandwiches on the table. Wesley ate two and drank the Gatorade and realized that he felt way better. Coffee and cigarettes and no sleep didn't get you very far, he decided.

There wasn't a lot of new information about the bomb scare, aside from what they new last night. A small military grade bomb had gone off between here and the city, but off the main road. It had been in a car that was stashed in the woods that surrounded the palace grounds, outside of the walls and security patrol. The car was pretty much gone, so nothing to help them out as to who had set it off. Nothing else was going on anywhere else aside from the Berlin family causing more drama, but they did that every week. Andrew was going to address the country this evening, and they would meet again afterward.

It was the perfect time for a nap, and he was sure that he could fall asleep on anything vaguely horizontal now, but he knew he needed to talk to the Selected. First of all, Lady Valette had left this morning after he had given permission, and she had skipped a goodbye. She had never ever liked him or the Selection, and despite his best intentions, she had never gotten over the fact that she and her family had been stuck in Whites during the war despite her had being the ambassador to India. So now they were at thirteen which was dangerously close to the Elite. He had to start thinking about that too.

There were two other reasons—one, he wanted to make sure everyone was okay after last night and reassure them. Two—he needed to figure out who leaked the pictures to the media. He had quickly ruled out any of the staff or guards, due to the pictures themselves. They were obviously taken by someone who had been there. He suspected Darcy, but she had only been to the first one for about ten minutes before any of the party really happened. Veyra and Ophelia were his constant party buddies, and Eleanor came to a lot even though he never invited her, she always just showed up. Piper and Vera had come to the first one but that was it. Iris had come to the second one, but she hadn't stayed long. Georgia had come once too. Alyex had come to several. It ruled out several of the girls, who he had never invited or had never come. Nikoli disapproved of alcohol and had told him so, so she had never showed up. Valette hated him, and she was gone now so it didn't really matter. Lillian had thanked him for inviting her, but she didn't really do parties, and neither did Dresden. He had invited Fallon, but she ended up ghosting him.

They all seemed okay in regard to last night when he spoke to them. Alyex was a little shaken, and not her usual cheerful self, but she had asked him if he was okay and said she was sorry about Valette leaving, which was nice. Darcy was her usual difficult self, to put it nicely. She never actually said she did leak the pictures, but she never actually said that she didn't. He left before making sure she was okay, not that he really cared. At that point, he was concerned about leaving before she insulted his hair for the sixth time.

He still always managed to get super awkward around Iris, but she was smiley and sweet as he asked her if she was okay and invited him into her room They talked and pet her cat Hime for a while even though it made him sneeze the rest of the day. Georgia act bothered at all, but she did seem a little extra jumpy for someone who was usually so blasé about everything. No one confessed to the crime when he showed them the newspaper and explained that this was Bad For (Prince) Business, and they all apologized and those who were in the photos too seemed equally shocked. He was working his way down the second floor, realizing that a lot of the rooms were empty and the little wings that split off from the main hallway only had a few occupants, if any. Yeah, he had been eliminating girls for a while and now two had gone home on their own free will, but he guessed it just hadn't hit him yet. There were only thirteen left. And one would be his wife.

Piper was next. The tiny blonde opened her door and greeted him with her usual shy smile.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey Piper, how's it going?"

Despite partying with her during the karaoke date, she had reverted back to her quiet self, although she said about ten words now instead of two whenever he talked to her. He had even got a hello from the girl of few words, so progress there.

Piper shrugged, her preferred method of communication. "Okay, I guess." Instead of inviting him like the other girls had done, she closed the door behind her and joined him in the hall. She was in one of the wings that didn't have any occupants anymore.

"How are holding up since last night? Did you get any sleep?"

Piper nodded. "Um, yeah. More than you, from-" she didn't elaborate, just touched under her own eyes, where Wesley was sure his lack of sleep was evident. He probably looked horrible.

"I was just coming around to make sure everyone's okay. I know it was scary last night, but so far, we've determined that there's no threat to anyone's safety. Going to the safe rooms was mostly a precaution, so nothing to worry about." It was his standard line for all the girls today, and

Piper nodded some more. "That's good."

"And just so you know, Lady Valette asked to leave and her plane left this morning. She wasn't very happy here, and this was the last straw, I suppose."

Piper's big blue eyes widened, and her mouth screwed up into a frown. "That means there's only thirteen now," she said, almost to herself.

Wesley shoved his hands into his pockets. "Yeah."

Piper ran out of words and looked at her feet.

"Well, if you're alright," Wesley started. "I should get going. I'll see you around more once all this settles down."

He thought about his mom's promise to make his speak to some doctors and the text she had sent him later during the meeting, telling him he had an appointment this afternoon. Maybe then he could settle down too or something.

Wesley started to leave, giving Piper a final nod, but she reached for his arm and stopped him, her fingers grasping his shirt sleeve.

"Wait," she said. "I need to tell you something."

"What's up?" Wesley asked. She quickly dropped her hand, and her gaze moved back to the floor.

"Just…I don't want you to keep me…so when you eliminate…," she stammered, her words coming out in a rush or not at all.

"Are you asking me to let you leave?" Wesley offered. "If you want to, you can."

Piper shook her head, and started all over, finally able to form a complete sentence. "I don't want to leave like Valette did. I'm not mad at you or anything. "I've had a great time, and I—I think you're really nice and all, but I don't…I just don't think it will work. Me being a princess. Please don't feel like you have to keep me around, I'm happy to leave whenever you need me to." Her face flushed. "I like you…but not like _that_. I'm sorry."

Wesley put his hand on her shoulder, and she finally looked up from her fixation on the floor.

"Don't be sorry, I totally understand. You're a really sweet girl, Piper, and I'm glad you got to be here for a little while. I'm not making any more eliminations until I announce the Elite, but when I do, you can go then."

Piper smiled, her face lighting up. "Thank you!"

"Aw, come on, don't get too excited," he teased. "I'm not that horrible, am I?"

She shook her head vigorously. "I was worried you would be mad at me."

"Nah. If anything," Wesley shrugged, "this makes it easier. I suppose you'll be the first girl that I haven't picked to go home and the first one to leave without hating me. Hopefully," he added.

"You—you were going to keep me here for the Elite?" Piper asked, her voice shy.

"To be honest," Wesley said, "I haven't really thought about it."

Piper was quiet, as usual, as she looked at the floor. She looked back at Wesley, a small smile on her face. "Well, good luck. Knowing you, you'll need it!"

Wesley burst into laughter, and Piper laughed with him after a moment's hesitation.

She was right. He was hopeless.

Wesley wasn't any less hopeless with the next couple of girls as he continued his rounds. Ophelia admitted that the evacuation to the safe rooms in the middle of the party had been one of the most terrifying moments of her life, and to that, Wesley didn't have anything to say. Veyra greeted him with her usual smirk and "Hey, Shreave," and he lost all cognitive function for a while there. Both of them had been to every party but they were in some of the photos too, and they both swore to help him track down whoever leaked them.

"Are we safe here?" Vera demanded as soon as she saw him at her door before he could even say hi, leaving him standing there with his mouth open like a goon. "I need to know if we're safe."

"Hello to you, too," Wesley said. Vera just waited for an answer to her question. She didn't have any makeup on today, and her honey blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, but she still looked really pretty. Pretty, but kinda freaked out. "Yeah, most of last night was a safety precaution," he explained. "There's really nothing-"

"If there's nothing going on, then we wouldn't have been evacuated. Don't tell me there's nothing going on."

"Uh, okay. There's _something_ going on but we don't really know anything yet and it's probably nothing and even if it is something, this is the absolute safest place to be."

Vera smoothed back some of the messy strands of her hair. "If this was the safest place to be, then nothing would be going on."

"Okay…well, I'm thoroughly confused now," Wesley said. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. There's nothing to worry about, I promise."

She leaned against the doorframe and touched her shoulder with the opposite hand, and Wesley remembered seeing the knotted scars there. "I'm fine," she said, her voice tight and her eyes not meeting his. "Just, please, tell me if you find out anything. I don't want to die here."

"You can leave, if you want to," Wesley blurted out. He backpedaled. "I mean, Valette didn't feel safe, that's why she left, so if you-"

Vera shook her head. "Valette has two parents who love her, a good career, and a nice boyfriend she had on hold to go back to."

"She what?"

Vera smiled a little at Wesley's shocked expression. "I take it she never told you about him, then? She would never shut up about him in the Woman's Room. When she wasn't insulting you and your family, that is."

"Damn," Wesley shook his head.

"Valette hated it here, and she hated the monarchy for slighting her parents. I don't," Vera said, and her hard gaze softened. "So even if I did have anything or anyone to go back to, I am staying here, until you eliminate me. I served my country for four years, and I'm not about to stop now."

Wesley scratched his head. "So, the Selection is like being a soldier to you then, huh?"

Vera shrugged. "In a way."

"Well good, because there's this gala thing next Saturday night honoring some of the soldiers from Angeles who served, and I'm supposed to go. And I need a date," Wesley raised his eyebrows and looked at Vera, "But since you served too, what do you say?"

The famed and feared St. George soldier actually blushed a little as her lips turned up into a tiny smile that she tried to hide by lowering her head. "I would like that," she said softly, looking at everything but him.

Wesley shot her some finger guns. "Cool. I'll make sure to give your maid some more info because I have no idea about any of it right now. And I promise if we find out anything about what happened last night, I'll personally tell you."

She did that little tiny smile and blush thing again, and Wesley decided it was one of the cutest things he'd ever seen. Like Piper, she had only been to the first party, and he was pretty sure that neither of them would be the type to sabotage his reputation, so he didn't ask. They said their goodbyes, and Wesley moved on to the next girl. The rest went okay, and since no one who had been to the parties had confessed anything, so by the time he got to the last girl, he had his suspicions. Because the last girl just happened to be Eleanor, and she had been to almost every party. And she had a good reason, because at the first party, he had kind of been a jerk to her, and this whole time she was always acting super jealous and clingy. Besides, she was the only one left, and it was getting kind of late and he still had that stupid appointment to go to.

He caught up with her coming out of the Woman's Room. "Wesley!" she exclaimed, beaming. "What brings you here?"

"Your maid told me you were here," he said. "Do you have a sec?"

Eleanor linked their arms together and tucked herself into his side. "Of course!" She was wearing her dark hair down in curls today, with a tiny braid on either side holding back most of her bangs. She was wearing a pale blue day dress and a gray sweater, and he had to admit, it looked really good.

"So, last night…you okay?" Wesley asked after a moment as they strolled down the Main Hall towards the doors to the gardens.

"Oh yeah, just fine," Eleanor said, flashing him a bright smile. "A little tired, but I also probably had too much wine at the party before the alarms went off."

"That can make you tired," Wesley agreed, and Eleanor laughed even though it was hardly a joke, to begin with. He honestly didn't even remember having wine at the party, but he didn't remember half of the parties he'd had with the girls so. "Well, I just wanted to tell you that the situation is under control and that there's nothing to worry about."

"I wasn't worried," she squeezed his arm. "I know you would tell me if there was something to worry about."

"Actually, there is," Wesley stopped walking and turned to face her, pulling his arm from her grasp. "There's been a bunch of photos leaked from all the parties and you've been to a lot of them. This is making me look really bad, not to mention my family and the monarchy and the Selection itself."

Eleanor blinked several times and her lips parted. "Are you asking me if I did it?"

Wesley nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. You're the last girl I've spoken to, so don't try to blame this on someone else. This is serious, Eleanor. I don't even know why you would do something like this."

He expected her to at least defend herself. Or apologize. Or something other than turning away and stalking down the hall, her ridiculous heels clicking away.

"Seriously?" he called after her.

She stopped and spun around, and he was surprised to see tears sparkling in her eyes and her mascara smudging as she tried to stop them. "First, you ignore me," she said, her voice roughened from holding back her tears, "You take all the other girls on dates except me, and every time I try to talk to you, you say I'm being too forward. And now you accuse me of this?" She turned around and kept walking away. "You don't have to make up stuff to eliminate me if you hate me so much. Just go ahead and do it." The last part came out as more of a sob than anything.

And he felt bad. Really bad.

Wesley broke into a jog to catch up with her. "Hey, wait!" He grabbed her arm to stop her, but Eleanor wrenched it away.

"Leave me alone! I don't want to be accused of anything else I didn't do."

"Look, I'm sorry!" Wesley said. Even in heels, she was surprisingly hard to keep up with. She didn't stop either. "I'm sorry, okay? You're right, I have been unfair to you and I'm really sorry. And I shouldn't have just assumed it was you."

"Nope."

"Will you please talk to me?" He finally caught up to her and ran around in front of her.

Forced to a stop, Eleanor stepped back and crossed her arms. "What, so you can kick me out?"

"I'm not kicking you out!" Wesley shouted, loud in the empty hallway.

Eleanor looked away and didn't say anything, but her shoulders sagged a little bit. The sun from the glass doors was lighting her up from behind and she looked beautiful.

"You're totally right, I was awful to you," Wesley said. She looked at him, her brow creased into a frown. "Will you please forgive me?" he continued, "I just…I don't know, you kinda scare me."

Her face softened. "You ignore me because I scare you?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, feeling his neck flush. "You're, like, really pretty and confident and pretty and nice and I feel like I'm a total idiot around you. Out of all the girls not counting the ones that may want to kill me, I'm the most scared of you."

Slowly, a smile crept across her face. "Don't be! You're not an idiot, Wesley." She brushed her fingers over the sleeve of his jacket, and then gently took his arm again. "Okay, maybe you are a little bit sometimes." With Eleanor's lead, they resumed their strolling like nothing had happened. It felt good. Finaalllyy, something was going right

"I'm really not confident at all," Eleanor said after a moment. "I've been faking it, but I guess it worked out."

"Fake it till you make it, right?"

They both laughed, and the tension broke. Wesley managed to remember that he had his appointment to get to very very soon but first he had to make sure Eleanor didn't hate him. He really didn't want her to hate him.

"I've never actually been so stressed in all my life," Eleanor continued as they walked. "And I guess I can be overbearing sometimes. This whole thing, the cameras, and the media and all the other girls and your family and living in the palace…" she trailed off and tucked her hair behind her ears with her free hand. "It's just a lot of pressure."

"I get what you mean," Wesley was quiet for a minute, thinking. "Okay, I have an idea. It's to make up for me being a total bitch for you."

Eleanor smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "I already forgave you."

"Yeah, well I still owe you a date," he scratched the back of his neck, "or a few. Anyway, meet me here tonight at eight," he motioned to the glass doors leading to the gardens. "I have an idea you're going to love it. But right now, I've got shit to do that I really don't want to do but I have to do anyway."

Eleanor slipped her arm out from his. "Oh, then it must be horrible if you would rather stay here with me." She said it like a joke but it still pinched Wesley with guilt.

"Sorry."

She shook her head. "It's fine, Wesley," she gave him a little shove and grinned. "Go, I'll see you later."

He finger-gunned her goodbye and then jogged back down the Main Hall.


	27. Tell Me That You Love Me Too

**AYYY AN UPDATE IN 8 DAYS? LIVING MY BEST LIFE! Also decided that writing long ass chapters take too long so this one isn't especially long and was supposed to be part of last chapter but oh well!**

 **Anyways, please let me know if anyone is still reading lol it doesn't have to be a long review by any means I just like knowing people still read this story! Review shout outs for** canifindtheone, Doctor Kay Strange, mnbvcxz-xx, Lizcran, Nameless, Epiccupcake28, Virtue01 **and** RunawayGirl8125. **I know there's some characters I haven't spent a lot of time writing and I promise I have stuff for most of them written down in my plot list but yall I'm juggling a lot of plot lines right now aaaaaand still considering adding some Selected POV's so let me know if that's something anyone would be interested in reading and which girls!**

…

Wesley was only slightly late to meet Eleanor for their date. Only slightly. Okay, like fifteen minutes. And as it turned out, the date wouldn't be all that private, as the two Shreave pups, Finn and Jack were bounding behind him.

"Sorry!" he gasped as he came to a stop in front of her. She was sitting on the floor, her back against the glass doors. "I ran all the way here."

Eleanor smiled. "I can tell," she said, her eyes skimming over his, bent double as he leaned against the wall, breathing like he had just run a mile, which is what it felt like. The dogs panted happily as they greeted her.

"I need a smaller house, man."

After talking to earlier, he had to go meet with the palace doctor, which had been a waste of time. He lied about everything, and by lied, he had basically told them it was no big deal _because it wasn't._ Thankfully, his mother wasn't there so he convinced the doctor he didn't need a therapist over some nightmares and insomnia because Selections were hella stressful. She gave him a prescription for sleeping pills, but Wesley hadn't decided if he would her up on those. She had been very nice though.

After that, he had finally got a nap but accidentally missed dinner and had snuck into the kitchen to make some pizza rolls to eat during another Council meeting. After hours meetings usually didn't require formal attire which was great because he was still in his nap pjs and hoodie pockets were the perfect hiding place for snacks. It probably wasn't princely at all to hide the pizza rolls in a plastic bag there to covertly eat them, but it was the best idea he had in a long time. The meeting had run late, so he had to run around the palace like a crazy person to get supplies for his date and find a second in the mayhem to put real pants on. And now he was here.

"You ready?" he asked, finally getting his breath back.

"What in the bag?" Eleanor asked, taking his offered hand to pull herself up. She had changed into casual clothes too, like he had texted her, and was wearing leggings, an olive-green shirt, and ankle boots.

"You'll see." He opened up both of the doors with a dramatic flourish. "Dogs are coming too!"

Jack and Finn raced out in front of the couple and Wesley ran after them. The gardens were all lit up from the lights in the plants and everything around was bathed in a warm golden light. For a second, he wasn't here in the glowing gardens with Eleanor. In his head, he was out above it all on one of the balconies looming behind them. With another girl from Tammins. There had been more lights then, the gardens festooned for a reception. _I wish this didn't have to end._ That's what she had told him. And he told her the same thing he had said to her that stormy night in the observatory just a few weeks ago. _I'm never going to love anyone the way I love you._

He turned to look at Eleanor as she caught up with him, grabbing his arm with both hands. Her hair smelled like lavender and in the lights of the gardens her dark eyes were sparkling. He saw Lissa's necklace around her neck, though she had it tucked under her shirt, he would recognize the chain anywhere.

Enough, Wesley, he told himself.

"So where are we going?" she asked, her tone teasing. "If you won't tell me what's in the bag could you at least tell me what we're doing?"

He knew it in his very bones. He knew he would never love anyone the way he had loved Lissa Dove.

But maybe he could love someone else in another way. He just didn't know who that someone was going to be. Had to start somewhere, though.

He grabbed Eleanor's hand and swung their hands between them. "Well, I figured you weren't a beer girl, so I brought wine. And snacks."

"Sounds amazing," she squeezed his hand and smiled.

As they trooped across the lawn, the servants made themselves scarce. Wesley led Eleanor to where he had everything set up. He had built a build a fire (and by that, he really had used his position as a prince to have the servants build it.) There were also two lawn chairs and a little string of fairy lights over them, as well as a small folding table.

"Wow," Eleanor breathed. Wesley watched as the light from the fire was flickering across her face.

"I know you said that you've been really stressed, so this was the most normal and least Selection-y date thing I could think of," he slipped the bag off his shoulders and unzipped it. "Plus, I always look for excuses to make s' mores."

Eleanor laughed as he dumped out the s'mores making ingredients on the table and pulled out the bottle of red wine.

"It looks awesome. You're definitely forgiven," she said, sitting down in one of the chairs.

"Shit I forgot cups." Wesley managed to get the cork out of the bottle with the bottle opening thing.

"It's fine, we can share." Eleanor took the bottle from him and took a sip out. She handed it to him. "I love campfires."

"Dude, me too. My mom hates them though, so don't tell her about this one." He ripped open the bag of marshmallows, sending several spilling out on the ground as he practically tore the bag in half. They hunted around for sticks which was harder than he realized out in the perfectly landscaped grounds, but before long they were roasting the marshmallows.

"My brothers and Michelle and I used to have bonfires out here when my parents were away on official trips and stuff," Wesley told Eleanor. "We never did it when they were here. Andrew got totally wasted when he was like sixteen once, it was the greatest thing I've ever seen. I still have a video of it somewhere on my computer I think."

"What did he do?" Eleanor asked.

"I dared him to go skinny dipping in that big fountain by the rose garden, and he was like dancing under the water jet things like a maniac in his underwear because Michelle was there. Ethan tried to get him to stop and Andrew tackled him. I was like 10 and I tried to take one drink of Andrew's beer and he thought the best way to punish me was to throw me in the fountain and Ethan had to come rescue me because I thought I was going to drown even though the water was like two feet deep."

"Oh, wow now I can never get the image of the king dancing in his underwear in that fountain out of my head, thanks for that." Eleanor giggled.

"He's not just the king, you have to remember that. He's also my dumb older brother who was the craziest teenager ever. Sometimes I forget he's even the king."

"You're hilarious," Eleanor yanked her stick out of the fire to blow on her flaming marshmallow.

"Girl, no you gotta lightly brown it, not light it on fire!" Wesley motioned to his s'mores making technique.

"This is how I make them!" She said, shoving his arm playfully. "I like them burnt."

"Oooookkkkaaaayyy Miss Burnt Marshmallows that's the strangest thing I've ever heard."

"Oh, shut up Wesley." She tried to fight the smile spreading across her face by ducking her head and her hair fell over her face. "You and your siblings used to have rebel royal kid bonfires? Well, I used to go camping with my dad, and this is how we made s' mores."

"Aw, lucky! My dad never believed in that father-son bonding camping trip. Probably because he was the king."

Eleanor looked away quickly as Wesley realized what he had said. He got real quiet and cleared his throat. Way to bring up his dead father like that and make things awkward. "Ready for chocolate and graham crackers?" he asked, his voice stupid loud. "I love me a good s'mores."

They quietly added their marshmallows and made them. Wesley shoved like half of his into his mouth so he wouldn't have to say anything. He should have brought more wine.

"My dad died too," Eleanor said quietly, pushing her uneaten s' mores around on the paper plate.

"Sorry," he said around the mouthful of stickiness. Now would really really really not be a good time to have a panic attack again. Wesley focused every ounce of his attention on his s'more.

"You don't have to get weird about it. I shouldn't have either," Eleanor said.

"I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No, I think it's good to talk about stuff like that. I don't know if I'd rather be like you and not have those memories or if it hurts more to actually have them."

Wesley nodded, but everything had shifted so suddenly he didn't know what to say. Eleanor didn't say anything either.

It was getting a little breezy and Eleanor shivered and rubbed her arms.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A little, but I'm fine. It's just a bit windy."

"No, no, here-" he stuffed the rest of the s'mores in his mouth and put down his plate so he could pull his hoodie off. He handed it to her. Girls loved that kind of thing. "I'm way to close to the fire."

"Thanks." Eleanor pulled it over her head. "Why does it smell like…pizza rolls?"

"Uhhh, because pizza rolls are delicious and smell amazing?"

"That is true," Eleanor bit her lip, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

"Definitely not because I smuggled them into a meeting for snacks earlier."

Eleanor bumped her shoulder into his. "You are so goofy."

Wesley could have let the topic drop. He maybe should have. But nah. He took another drink out of the bottle of wine and handed it over to her.

"So, you and your dad. You guys were close?"

"Yeah. I'm an only child and my mom…well she's kind of crazy sometimes."

"Yeah, mine too." Wesley joked, and Eleanor laughed a little. Then she got sad, her voice wavering as she stared at the fire.

"He joined the army after the north seceded. He said that the most important thing was that this country stayed together, or it was just going to go back to falling apart. He was on the front on the Ottaro border for about a year before the Slaughter of St. George. He died defending those innocent civilians."

Wesley reached for her hand and squeezed it. It was the only thing he knew to do. The Slaughter of St. George had been one of the most awful parts of the war when the rebels had attacked their own neighbors and countrymen in the capital city where hundreds of civilians had been killed on purpose and the city destroyed. He had never talked to her about it, but it was highly likely that Vera had been caught up in it too, along with Eleanor's father.

"I'm so sorry, Eleanor."

"Thank you," she said. She didn't let go of Wesley's hand. "I miss him every day. My mom has always been really controlling, but it got worse after my dad didn't come home. She just wants what's best for me, but she doesn't care what I think, you know?"

"Yeah," he thought of how desperate his own mother had been to fix him up like nothing had ever happened, like talking to a doctor and getting some sleeping pills would automatically make him good as new.

"She was so excited when the Selection was announced because that's like her ultimate life goal for me," Eleanor continued. "She calls me like every day. She was in your dad's Selection; did you know that?"

"What, seriously?" Wesley exclaimed.

"Yeah!" Eleanor nodded enthusiastically. "She made it to the Elite, but she was the sixth to go home. She even came to your parent's wedding."

"That's insane! I only ever hear about my parent's falling in love, and like two other women my mom was really close to. Damn, we could have been siblings."

"Ew, don't say that when we're on a date!" Eleanor squealed, snatching the wine bottle from him. "Did either of them ever talk about Lady Adelaide?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Probably not, she was never really popular with the people or your dad. She told me that she wasn't in love with him, but she still wanted to be a princess. She talks all the time about the palace and everything."

They both made more s'mores and drank some more wine and Eleanor told him all the details she knew about her mom and his dad's time in the Selection. It was pretty crazy getting a whole new perspective on both of his parents. He tried her blackened s'mores and made her a perfectly toasted one, and they drank all the wine. He didn't know how long they were out there, but he found that he really liked spending time with Eleanor. She wasn't acting clingy or annoying at all, she was real out here with him. She was actually adorable. She had a dimple on her left cheek only that only came out when she smiled really big, which also meant that her right eyebrow rose slightly higher than her left which was even more adorable. Everything she did was graceful and elegant, even the drunken ballet moves she showed him when he whipped out the sparklers he had brought. She tried to get him to do some sort of ballet lift thing she called a fish dive, but they were both so tipsy he dropped her into the grass and then tripped and fell too.

They sat around the fire for a little longer, watching the flames die after they had exhausted the sparklers. She had pulled her chair over right next to his and had her legs stretched across his lap. He liked it.

"So, your turn Wesley. Were you and your dad close?"

It caught him a little off guard. But she had shared her stuff, so he better share his.

"I guess. Probably not like you and your dad. I have no clue what a normal family is supposed to be like, as you've probably guessed."

"Yeah, I realized that when you said you needed a smaller house earlier. You live in a _palace_."

"Oh, shut up," he teased. "I happen to suffer from being spoiled as a kid, okay?"

Eleanor just laughed at him.

"I don't know, I'm seven years younger than Andrew so by the time I came along I guess my dad was done with babies. Even Ethan is four years older than me. My dad wasn't supposed to be the heir but his older brother died before his Selection, so my dad was always obsessed with the idea that Ethan needed to be ready to be king too." Wesley leaned back in his chair, resting his arms over Eleanor's knees. "He kind of ignored me," he admitted. "Even when I was older, he always treated me like I was younger than I was. Honestly, I don't think he knew anything about me. About any of us, actually. He was always a king before he was a father. But still, I miss him. I miss him a lot."

"I can't imagine what that was like," Eleanor said quietly. "To see him killed in front of you."

Wesley shook his head. "No. You really can't."

Then she did the simplest thing in the world. She sat up in her chair and leaned forward so she could wrap her arms around him and hug him from the side.

And it was really, really nice.


	28. All Too Well

**Hi folks I totally missed the two year anniversary of this story to post this on July 6** **th** **(and also two years since I ended ST on June 27) but I had to rewrite and edit this chapter so much because I had no idea where I was going with it but I LOVE IT. It definitely was one of the most challenging chapters to write which is why it took FOREVER but I figured it was time for it so I can stop writing in circles! It's also insanely long because yeah forget updating more with shorter chapters I ain't got time for that. Get some snacks yo.**

 **Review shout outs to the pals** delovlies, ladyanj, Epiccupcake28, Doctor Kay Strange, mnbvcxz-xx **and** RunawayGirl8125. **THANK YOUUU!**

 **-shades**

…

The first rule of working for the royal family and having to attend events for your job was to never outshine the Selected.

It wasn't official or anything. But Lissa always tried very hard to dress in the little gray area between that and making sure she was up to the dowager queen's standards. She had no idea what was going on, but Christine had asked her to attend a few days ago to keep an eye on the little princesses and it wasn't like she had much else to do. Besides, most of her friends were people who attended palace functions on the regular, so she was actually looking forward to it. She hadn't spoken to Wesley since the safe rooms during the emergency drill last week, but they were friends too, right?

Then why did she feel so nervous?

Lissa wiped at her eyeliner as leaned closer to the mirror in her bathroom. It only succeeded in smudging it everywhere instead of softening the line. She let out a little growl of frustration and grabbed her makeup remover. It took a few tries, but she finally got her eyeliner to look good-but-not-too-good, which was her whole look tonight. Her dress was really simple while still being formal enough, a soft-blueish gray chiffon with a simple cut that nipped in at the waist and spaghetti straps. Knowing she may have to go Evie and Sophie chasing she was wearing nude heels that weren't too high and stayed on really well. Her makeup was nice but nothing crazy, though she had braided a little fishtail braid on the top of her head to go with her curls (and to show off her new blonde highlights). She had cut her hair in a really short bob when she had first started this job here, but now it was past her shoulders again.

During her first time at the palace she had kept her hair really really long and dyed it almost auburn blonde for her makeover instead of her natural light brown. And then-Lissa would never have worn a dress that was almost gray when she could have worn a bright pink or yellow ball gown.

She never would have a boyfriend who wasn't Wesley either.

She dabbed her perfume on her collarbone and she was touching up her lipstick when someone knocked on her door.

It was Joseph, leaning against the door frame with an iced coffee and a smirk. "Hey, babe."

"Hi yourself," Lissa tucked her hair behind her ears and working up a smile. "Is that for me?"

He handed her the iced coffee. "I know they're making you work way overtime time tonight."

Lissa inhaled sip of her favorite beverage _ever._ "Hold on, I need a moment." She closed her eyes and cupped her hands around it. "So good!"

"Is it over?" Joseph brushed past Lissa and sat down on her bed, his eyes skimming over her. "You look hot by the way."

"Where the heck did you get iced coffee?" Lissa closed her door and turned to face him. At least he knew how to get on her good side.

"They have tons in the kitchen for the Selected. Apparently, girls who compete for princes love iced coffee and copious amounts of sugar in it."

Lissa rolled her eyes. "Rude but thank you anyway." She stepped back into the bathroom to finish her hair. "I haven't seen you in ages, I never got to thank you for the flowers."

"I've been busy with work. Apparently, the prince actually does need a valet sometimes," Joseph said.

"I didn't even see you in the safe rooms that night," she said quietly, trying to busy herself with her hair. "I was really worried."

He leaned against the door frame behind her, making eye contact in the mirror. "Aw, babe, you didn't have to worry about me!" he rubbed her shoulder. "I wasn't even in the palace. I was still downtown. Where you left me," he added, his voice getting accusatory.

"Sorry," Lissa pretended to look down at her phone but she didn't have a good reason to. She saw the time. "Hey, what are you doing here anyway? I thought you had work."

Joseph shrugged. "I do."

"Why do you sound so happy about that. You never sound happy about work."

"That's because it sucks, Lis."

Lissa's spine stiffened. No one ever used that nickname. No one except Wesley. She turned around to actually look him in the eye, not through the mirror. "Don't call me that."

"Why not? Its cute."

"Yeah, well don't call me that," She snapped.

Joseph held up his hands. "Sheesh, okay! Sorry I didn't know you were so touchy today."

"I just don't want you to call me Lis, is that too much to ask? Why are you here anyway? I don't want to be the reason why you get in trouble."

"What, I can't come see my hot girlfriend?"

Lissa looked away and unplugged her curling iron. She didn't feel like making sure her hair looked so perfect anymore.

"Besides, it will be my own actions that get me into trouble, not you." He chuckled. "Let's just say Prince Wesley is really going to regret ordering me around all the time."

Bad feeling. Somewhere in between his tone and his words, Lissa got a really bad feeling. She brushed it off and began putting all her makeup back into her makeup bag. "What does that mean?"

"It means that he's on a smoke break on the roof, it's his new favorite nicotine fix location. And I happen to have told one of the people on the camera crew coming for the reception tonight and they are going to get pictures of him smoking and all the evidence of when he makes me go to town to buy him cigarettes. They paid me two hundred fifty bucks and Prince Wesley is going to get what he finally deserves."

She didn't look up as she carefully zipped up the bag. She knew if she did, she wouldn't like what she saw.

So, Joseph wasn't the nice cute guy who flirted with her and thought she was beautiful and worshipped the ground she walked on. Hadn't she always known that?

Yeah.

He was also kind of rude and possessive and self-absorbed and lorded himself over her.

But this? This was something else entirely. The Bad Feeling was getting Angry. And she didn't look up because she didn't want him to see that either.

"Did you leak the photos of the parties?" Lissa asked quietly.

"No, but I wish I had," He actually snickered. "Don't get me wrong, I respect the monarchy, but Prince Wesley? I can't stand him. People think he's so great, but he makes a mess out the Selection and is drunk off his ass half the time and is addicted to cigarettes now. He's the literal definition of a douchebag."

She stuffed her makeup bag into its drawer along with her brush and all her other cosmetic stuff. "Why do you have to hate people all the time?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing." She pushed past him out of the bathroom, turning off the light and leaving him in the dark.

"What the hell, Lissa?"

That was the moment where she could have felt bad and apologized and gone back to the happy girlfriend and she could have taken his negativity for who knew how long. But that wasn't her anymore.

"I'm really getting sick of it. You have one of the best employers in the country and all you do is complain and hate on him because Wesley won't let you do your job, or he makes you do your job. Like seriously?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" he scoffed. "You know working here sucks."

Lissa ignored him, and now that she had started, she couldn't stop. "You act like you are so perfect, so it's okay, right? You don't eat sugar or drink soda or eat French fries or text people or use your phone. You never even listen to me, Joseph! You hate your job, so you assume I hate mine! You hate my friends, so you assume I hate them too! And flowers aren't going to fix that. All you do is try to guilt me into dating you." She stalked across the room. These feelings had always been there but saying them out loud made her realize it was all true.

He looked at her like a sad puppy, and his voice was quiet in comparison to her yelling. "I guilt you into dating me?"

Lissa didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. She kept her arms tightly crossed over herself.

His eyes got hard, and there were no dimples or charm anywhere. "I know what this is always been about for you," he took a step closer. "When you came to me the first night the Selected were here and we went out? That's when I knew. I've always known. Our relationship has never been about you and me. It's always been about you and Prince Wesley."

"You have absolutely no clue what you are talking about."

"And maybe that's why I hate him so much, did you ever think about that?"

"Then why did you go along with it? With us?" Lissa demanded, throwing her arms out wildly. "Even though it's not true? Because there were things, I actually liked about you, Joseph. But what did you like about me? The fact that I was available?"

Joseph stood right in front of her now. "How long have you been in love with him?"

"I'm not-"

"It's him or me, you get that, right?"

Lissa shoved him backwards out of her face before she knew what she was doing. And it felt _good._ "You don't get to force that decision on me." Her voice broke a little, but the words came out all in a rush. "You always made me think I wasn't good enough without a boyfriend," she pointed at him, and swallowed back the impending tears lurking behind her eyes. "You know what the worst part was? I fell for it. But I was good enough."

"So that's your answer? Him? I always figured you would try to get your claws on him again." Joseph shook his head and turned away from her. Sad puppy mode was back but it only made her mad.

"I'm not choosing anybody! Don't you understand that?" Lissa cried. "I've started to feel like I'm _drowning_ when I'm around you! You threw me so far from myself I don't even know if I can find myself again, but I'm too much of a coward to break up with you."

"God, I can't believe you," he shook his head in disgust. "You were probably the only Seven he had ever met during his brother's Selection and he thought that was hot."

Slapping him across the face was even better than shoving him.

The silence in the room was deafening as they stared at each other for a long moment. Her hand _hurt._

She forced her voice to be calm and steady. "Just so you know, I'm telling Wesley what you were going to do.

Lissa left him alone in her room and slammed the door behind her. She was so mad, her whole body felt like it was shaking as she ran down the fourth-floor hallway.

Let Joseph think what he wanted of her.

Bitch.

She heard her door open up in the hallway behind her, but he didn't say anything. She passed the rooms of the royal family's bodyguards and turned down the hall that had the stairwell that accessed the roof. This wasn't royal family area, this was usually only for security purposes, so it wasn't as beautiful as the rest of the palace. At the top of a short half-flight of stairs were two steel doors that reminded her of the ones in the safe rooms. Lissa ran up them with handfuls of her skirt in her hands and pushed open the doors, catching Wesley frantically trying to get rid of his cigarette evidence with the unexpected intruder.

"Oh," he said when he saw her. "It's you."

There was a flicker of remembrance from a week ago outside the safe rooms in her mind. She let the doors close behind her and dropped the skirt of her dress. She hadn't really thought this far and had no clue what to say. You could see the whole city from up here, spiraling out down below the hills that the palace was perched on. Lights of rush-hour traffic were blinking on and off and it was kind of beautiful.

"Hey, are you crying?" Wesley took a step towards her, stuffing all his contraband into his dress pants pockets. Everything was golden and hazy in the early evening light, and his gray eyes looked blue above the cobalt tie that hung loosely around his neck.

Lissa quickly dashed her hands over her cheeks. She tended to cry anytime she yelled or got mad, which was infuriating. "Uh," she began, her voice thick and giving it all away no matter what she answered. "No."

Wesley grinned one of his cocky grins, and for a moment she could pretend they were sixteen again. The action scrunched up one of his eyes like it always did. "Didn't we agree to be friends? You can tell friends anything."

"I think I broke up with my boyfriend," she blurted out. None of it had really sunk in when it was happening but everything, they had said came rushing back to her. She had only dated Joseph to get away from her feelings for Wesley. Joseph trying to make her choose between them like that was even an option. Wesley only liked her before because she was a Seven. Her hand still stung from hitting him.

"What?" Wesley's eyebrows furrowed.

She looked away from him. "He had this whole plot, and he was so excited about it he came to tell me. Some guy from the camera crews paid him and knows that this is where you smoke and is going to come get pictures of it."

His eyes widened. "Oh SHIT! I gotta dip," he ran past her to the doors. "I owe you big time, dude!" He called back, pushing them open.

Only they didn't budge.

"What the heck?" he shoved them again. Then he kicked them as hard as he could. Nothing.

"Are they locked?" Lissa joined him, and tried to open them herself, but nothing happened.

Wesley looked at her. "These doors don't just lock on their own. Some guard could get stuck out here or something."

Lissa groaned and slumped against the unyielding doors. "I'm so stupid. I told Joseph I was coming to tell you. He probably locked us out."

Wesley looked at the ground. "Well…" he began, his voice shaking. "At least the reporter can't get up here."

"But if someone catches you up here…with me," Lissa said. "That's not going to look good." She reached for her phone, but then realized it was back in her room. "And I don't have my phone to call someone."

He reached into his pack pocket and pulled out his phone. He tried turning it on several times. "Oops. It's dead. As usual." Wesley laughed awkwardly. "Aha, this is great!" he said with a cheerfulness that wasn't genuine. "Well either way, my life is over!" He pushed his hair back with desperation, sending the light brown strands flopping over his face.

"I am soooo sorry," Lissa said. "I underestimated what he would do-"

"No, it's cool!" He was pacing now, and his voice was higher than normal. "Like seriously I can't thank you enough for telling me what he was going to do. I'm going to have him fired and then murdered. I'm a prince. I can do that. And this is probably somehow endangering my life so maybe the guards can murder him. But it's not your fault, honestly."

While Lissa wished she had never set eyes on Joseph Sheppard, she wasn't sure she wanted him dead. The combination of fighting with him and then running up here and telling Wesley and then finding themselves stuck caused her to spill her guts.

"I lied to you," she said. "When you asked, I told you that I was happy and that he treated me right, but I wasn't," she shrugged. "I don't know why we even dated."

Wesley didn't stop pacing. "Yeah, newsflash, but he was a massive dick."

"That's what he always said about you."

Wesley finally stopped pacing long enough to light another cigarette. "You know," he said around it in his mouth as he tried to light it. "Once I figure out how to tell my mom about this without getting my ass whooped, he's fired."

"Why can't you just tell her what happened?"

"Because," Wesley was now flipping his lighter over and over again. "Like I said, she'll whoop my ass. She already hated me drinking, can you imagine what would happen if she found out about the smoking? Like I'm literally dead already. And if anyone else knew, they would hate me. My brothers and Michelle are, like, basically perfect. They have cute little families and they're out here saving the world. Okay, Michelle isn't, but everyone still thinks she's perfect."

"It's not that bad, Wes," Lissa tried to tell him.

He laughed, a nervous laugh, and started pacing again. "It's bad okay? It's bad. And now we're stuck up here and we're probably going to get struck by lightning or some shit which will probably be better than being late to my own announcement reception for choosing the Elite because my valet locked me up here because you broke up with him and we used to be a couple and now it's going to look really really really bad and-"

Lissa grabbed his arm to get him to stop, but he didn't look at her. "Hey! Calm down! You're going to give yourself a heart attack or something if you don't breathe. It's okay. We'll figure it out."

He pulled away; eyes wild behind the mess his hair had become. "And everyone is going to find out that I smoke now and at least I quit once before I got back home, but that was because…" Wesley slowly trailed off and came to a stop. His hands were shaking as he sucked through his cigarette, and she could see damp patches on his dress shirt around the edges of his jacket. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"My friend, my _best_ friend smoked all the time," he said, his voice small. "And I was always with him and it gave me something to do because we were always waiting around for something to happen and then it _did_ and he died. And it was easy to quit then."

Lissa remembered him telling her that he thought he was going crazy at the Victory Ball, and even though that was a month ago, he seemed exactly the same as he had in that moment where she had held him. Her heart broke for him.

"What was his name?" she asked quietly.

"Drake Ferguson," Wesley said quietly, tossing away the remains of his cigarette and sitting down on the roof, his legs stretched towards where it ended. The setting sun in the west was bathing his face in a rosy light, but gray clouds were slowly obscuring the golden light. "I keep replaying his death over and over and over in my head and it never goes away and it never gets better and I try never to remember what he said to me before he died."

She didn't think she should ask him to elaborate, so she sat down next to him.

"I can't remember the exact words," Wesley continued. He smiled a tiny bit, but it wasn't a happy smile. "I didn't even remember that he said anything to me before he died for a long time because I went through one tragic experience and it messed me up so bad."

"Wes, you went through hell. Just because others have suffered worse doesn't mean your feelings aren't valid. You can't think like that."

"Like what? Like I'm insane? I swear I'm crazy, Lis."

The rosy gold light from the sunset warmed her skin, like being called Lis did. They had always called each other Wes and Lis before, and even though it had been five years and everything had changed, that hadn't.

"You're not. I promise. But honestly? Drinking and partying with the Selected and smoking isn't going to make things better."

"Shut up," he said, the hint of a smirk on his face to let her know he was joking.

"I'm being serious. You have got to talk to someone about this, someone who knows about stuff."

"I'm talking to you," he pointed out. "I wish I wasn't, but I can't seem to talk to anyone else."

She was almost afraid of the answer. "Why?"

Wesley shrugged his shoulders, tilting his face back to catch the final rays of sun. "I think it might rain," he said casually.

"Why can't you talk to anyone else?"

He closed his eyes and didn't answer for a long time.

"Because I always think of you," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And when I was so scared, I thought I was going to die, I would think of you. When I remember things and I can't make it stop, I think of you. It's this one stupid memory usually, from Trentworth, when we all played sardines. I think that was one of the last times things were good before it all went to hell."

"Yeah," Lissa said, barely above a whisper. Back when they were truly happy, thinking that never could ever change the way they were. She wanted to ask so bad why he had never contacted her after the rebellion had failed and his family had come home from captivity. She knew he had been busy and off fighting, but she thought that they had meant more to each other than that. Apparently not.

When Wesley spoke again, only a few rays of light remained, half obscured by a skyscraper and half by the clouds. There was a little breeze in the air that did feel like rain, like Wesley had said. His voice was as thick as hers had been earlier, and he kept his eyes on his lap.

"It was so awful," he shook his head like he could make it all go away. "Drake made sure I got out of the plane first, even though it was my fault for not noticing the rebel aircraft. There wasn't enough time for him." He stopped and swallowed hard. "It's so much worse, every time I dream about it. I saw a lot of dead bodies and every time I replay it in my head it's awful. I can't even remember what he actually looked like when I found him, but I think it was mostly internal. He was in so much pain…"

He had to stop for a few minutes, to wipe his nose and press his face into the crook of his arm. Lissa didn't know what to do, but she found herself reaching for his hand and squeezing it briefly before pulling away.

"You're safe now. It's okay," she whispered. "It wasn't your fault he died. You didn't kill him."

"I did, though. It _was_ my fault," he said miserably. "He kept telling me it was okay, and he told me to tell the girl I was always talking about when I was drunk off my ass that I loved her and that I had to do something about it. He said he wouldn't get the chance to tell his girl that. He never even got the chance to say who it was or how to contact her because he died, he just died. He started coughing up blood everywhere and then he just died. It was so awful."

Somewhere in his story, he had started crying, though he kept desperately trying to stop. Lissa couldn't hold back her tears either. She had always been a sympathetic crier, and she kept putting herself in his place. If it was Gracie or Nicole dying in front of her…she didn't want to think about it.

"It was you," Wesley said miserably, "I told you, I would always think about you. It was one of the only ways to make it stop."

He was saying all these things about her, about them, but Lissa didn't want to hear them right now. Part of her was so grateful that in her own way she had helped him and that he thought of her. Another part remembered all too well how painful their separation had been after the masterpiece that they had created together five years ago.

And there was this other part of her with a tiny stupid spark of hope. It was something that pulled her forward and kept her going, but it was dangerous and painful and risky. It was accepting a crazy dare, to think that maybe possibly somehow Drake had been right, and that did Wesley love her and that he was going to do something about it.

It was a dare that the world was never going to let her win.

There were a million things she could have asked, demanding an explanation for his behavior towards her. They could have cleared it up then and there. Lissa didn't ask anything, even though the possibility of _something_ kept nagging away at her. She didn't want to hear the answers anyway.

"Hey, you can't blame yourself for what was out of your control," she said gently. "From what you told me; Drake made the conscious decision to get you out first. And you didn't shoot your own plane down."

Wesley pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I could have…I don't know, seen the plane faster. I could have launched the defensive measures faster. He was always there for me…and then…"

If anyone needed a hug in that moment, it was Wesley Shreave. Hugs, however, were dangerous territory and a place Lissa didn't think she could get back from safely at the moment. She settled for a nice pat on the back and hoped her companionship would be enough for him at the moment. She just couldn't.

"It's going to be okay."

It was starting to rain, or at least try. It was fall in Angeles now, but it had been warm lately, refusing to surrender to cooler temperatures. They had been sitting out in the open, but there wasn't really anywhere that was less open, except by the door. They both got up when it started to get heavier and stood under the little overhang.

"Hey, you want my coat?" Wesley asked when Lissa shivered at the drizzle on her skin. His voice was still rough, and he cleared his throat.

"I don't want to get wet," Lissa explained. "It's okay."

"Nah, I'm a sweaty bitch anyway," he slipped his arms out of the jacket and then draped it over her, holding it open while she stuck her arms through. She wondered who else he had given his jackets to lately.

"You're crazy, you know that?" she said, keeping her tone light. "You always say the dumbest things, no matter what we were talking about."

Wesley shrugged, and finally smiled a tiny bit. "Yeah, I know. I can never stop before the words come out. I'm a massive idiot."

"You're fine," she smiled and nudged him gently.

Wesley banged and knocked on the door for a while and tried to yell through it but to no avail. They tried shouting off the edge of the roof too, and Wesley lit a couple of his cigarettes to drop over the edge before Lissa freaked out thinking he had started a fire. He stashed the rest of the box in his pockets and they managed to make the box into a paper airplane but that didn't work either. Everyone was inside apparently, getting ready for the reception that both of them were probably supposed to be at soon, whatever time it was.

"So, you were really going to announce the Elite tonight?"

Wesley nodded. "Yep. I figured it's about time." He looked out over the horizon. "That is, if we don't starve to death up here before someone finds us." The rain petered off slowly in a gusty breeze that ruffled Wesley's hair.

"Why is it we always end up stuck together somewhere and late to something important?" Lissa jested. "Because this is the second time you know."

Wesley smirked for half a second before he quickly cleared his expression. Lissa's skin prickled in embarrassment. She could guarantee that Wesley was thinking about how last time this had happened she had been on top of him and boobs had been involved. She left the overhang to stand at the edge of the roof, holding on the railing that kept it safe for guards on their rounds. That is, if guards ever came up here, which apparently, they didn't.

"Aw, come on, am I that bad?" Wesley smiled, a little bigger than before. With his hair all ruffled and damp and that smile, he looked like the Wesley from before. He joined her at the railing, a little closer than necessary, and leaned on his elbows. His voice got soft again. "Somehow, we just always end up together. Even when we don't mean for it to happen."

Lissa was dying to ask him now. Something, anything. She just needed to know if any of it mattered. She started to speak but the words stuck in her throat before she forced them through.

"Do you regret it?"

Wesley looked sideways at her. "What?"

"I don't know," Lissa shrugged, hating the way her voice shook, hating the way she had to ask. "Everything." She leaned on the railing too.

He was quiet for a long moment. Heat flooded Lissa's cheeks. She opened her mouth to tell him to forget it.

Wesley turned away from her, his eyes resting on the shimmering city below them. "Just because we didn't work out doesn't mean you weren't the best thing that ever happened to me," he swallowed, and she barely could hear the next part. "Because you were."

Lissa followed his gaze, watching the lights of traffic change from white to red. "Yeah," she whispered, blinking back the wetness in her eyes. "You too."

She thought about asking him to never forget it, to always remember that magical time five years ago, to always remember her like everything had been perfect. She wanted him to think of her and how good it all was, even if it hadn't lasted.

One moment in her head, there they were again dancing together at the masquerade ball when they were both newly sixteen and stupid. Or running out to the beach at night when they were at Trentworth or pushing each other into the fountain and kissing. Saying goodbye at the front doors when she thought he wasn't coming and making promises neither of them kept but being so happy that there weren't any rules to keep them apart anymore. That brief, brief moment they had in Tammins when he was stationed there when both of them believed it was still possible. She remembered all of it.

The rain died down and the light slowly faded to dark and Lissa and Wesley stood next to each other watching Angeles go on below them. Wesley kept looking at his watch and playing with his lighter. Lissa kept stealing glances at Wesley and he was different than the boy she knew before. It was weird though, because his hair was shaggy right now like it had been before. These days he wore it a little shorter and slicked back, less curly. There were barely visible lines around his gray eyes, and she could see the tiny sparks of the city lights in them. His face was leaner, like the rest of him, more muscled somehow. There was the shadow of a beard on his face too. He was a little taller. Or maybe he just carried himself different.

He got up from the railing and lit another cigarette, and offered her one, but Lissa shook her head.

"You're going to kill your lungs," she reminded him, turning around so she leaned against the railing. "If your mom doesn't find out first and do it."

Wesley smiled as he cupped his hands around his lighter. "Drake always used to say that too." The wind blew his hair off his forehead and she noticed a small white scar on his temple. "But I got anxiety."

He looked up and found her watching him. He coughed a little.

"I'm serious. Its so bad for you." He was mostly just a smudge of white shirt in the dusk, but she could still see his face.

"And that's what Elvira always told us. I know." He frowned, and looked down, taking a deep breath. His words all came out in a tumble and his forehead scrunched up. "Do you think we could have made it?" he waved his cigarette pointing in between them rapidly. "If things had been different?" he looked at her and Lissa couldn't look away.

"Yeah," she said. "I think we could have."

He stepped closer, tossing his cigarette over the railing. This time Lissa didn't think about fires or getting someone's attention or anything.

Oh God.

He was going to kiss her. His eyes were doing the thing. He was so close she could smell his douchey axe deodorant or whatever it was over the cigarette smoke. He brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.

Lissa couldn't move.

Why did this feel like goodbye?

She didn't have a chance to think about any of it, because the door to the roof flew open, and they both jerked apart.

"Stop littering!" a voice shrieked. It was mostly dark, but they could still make out a flurry of pink. "If you guards don't stop throwing down cigarettes, I'm seriously going to tell the king and queen and they listen to me."

"Gracie?" Lissa said.

"Lissa? Is that you? What are you doing up there?"

"We were locked out," Lissa stepped past a hands-shoved-in-pockets Wesley, hoping Gracie wouldn't notice her flaming face. "It's a long story."

"Why didn't you call me? And who's throwing cigarettes? I kept seeing them out the Woman's Room windows, and you burned a patch in the lawn."

"Sorry, that was me," Wesley came up behind them. "We were trying to get someone's attention."

Gracie glanced between them and everyone was quiet.

"Huh," she said. "Well, everyone's looking for you anyway, Wesley. You're lucky I came up here."

Wesley laughed even though nothing was funny. "You're a life-saver, Gracie. Thanks." He slipped past her and disappeared inside.

"What was that about?" Gracie peered curiously at Lissa.

"Nothing. I'll tell you later." Lissa went inside and she and Gracie headed downstairs. Gracie told her that the reception was kind of on hold, but all the cameras were there and the Selected were waiting and that no one had said anything about Lissa being absent. Lissa tried to explain what in the world they were doing on the roof without saying too much.

"I had to break up with Joseph because he was going to get Wesley into trouble-"

"You broke up with Joseph?" Gracie gasped. "Finally."

"Wait what?" Lissa looked at her friend.

"I never liked that guy," Gracie shook her head. "You deserve better. I didn't want to tell you though because it seemed like you really liked him."

They got to the first floor, and the Main Hall was surprisingly empty. Like the opening reception, she figured this one would be held in one of the large first floor drawing rooms with easy access to the dining room.

It wasn't totally empty, though. Wesley was down there, trying to redo his tie in one of the massive mirrors that the Main Hall was decorated with. And Lady Eleanor was helping him.

"Why are you all wet? Everyone's been looking for you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Wesley said, messing up his hair even more in an attempt to fix it.

Eleanor looked up as Gracie and Lissa came down the stairs, their heels announcing their arrival. She looked so perfect in her violet lace gown, and Lissa wished she had had time to go fix her hair. Her makeup was probably a wreck too.

Eleanor looked at Lissa a little longer than necessary and her eyes narrowed just a tiny bit.

"I'll see you in there," she said to Wesley and Lissa was surprised she didn't kiss him on the cheek.

"You look fine, Wesley," Gracie said as she started to follow Eleanor inside. "Just get in here."

"Lissa, wait." Wesley dashed forward and grabbed her arm. Gracie shut the doors behind her, and once again they were alone.

And awkward.

"You've still got my jacket," Wesley explained.

"Oh." Lissa slipped it off and handed it to him. "Thanks."

She looked up at him, unsure if she wanted to pick up where they left or not. Wesley looked down at her, and she could see him swallow hard.

Maybe this was one of those moments she wanted him to remember, even if it didn't mean anything. Maybe this was goodbye.

They didn't say anything. He just leaned down and put his hand on her neck and she stood on her toes to meet him halfway. His lips brushed over hers and she didn't even have time to close her eyes before her brain kicked in, screaming at her to pull away before it went any further. They still stayed like that for half a second before Lissa ducked her head and pressed her lips together.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Sorry." It had been so light she wasn't even sure it happened.

"It's…" he slung the jacket over his shoulder. "It's okay."

He disappeared inside too.

Lissa sagged against the doors. "Oh no," she said to nobody but herself. She had to say it like that because if she didn't her stupid head would never ever get it and she would just have to go on living like this. "I think I'm still in love with Wesley Shreave."


End file.
